


Desperate Times

by Captains_Cove



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-24 02:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 42,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captains_Cove/pseuds/Captains_Cove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cora and Hook have made it through to Storybrooke, and the wicked witch will stop at nothing to get what she wants, even going so far as to use Hook's thirst for revenge against him. After a huge throw-down, Cora escapes the boundaries and Emma is badly injured, forcing Neal and August to take her into the city. Will Killian stay by her side, or skin his Crocodile?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All copywrite goes to the writers and producers of OUAT and ABC. Purely for entertainment purposes only.

It had been nearly a week since Emma and Mary-Margaret had returned from their journey through the Enchanted Forest. After the frenetic pace they'd set for themselves in order to find a way home, now that they were back in Storybrooke, Emma Swan's world seemed to slow down drastically around her, while everyone else in her life went skittering about full-speed ahead. Even though she'd seen the realm of fairy tales with her own two eyes-dragons, giants, witches and all-the idea was still sometimes more than her real-world brain could fully comprehend. And so, as a result, she'd taken to living this new chapter in her life from moment to insanely crazy moment, step by tentative step.

The most difficult aspect of her entire adjustment was learning how to be a part of an actual family-to accept the idea that there were now people in her life that loved her so much that they'd sacrificed everything to put her first-and would obviously do so again without hesitation. Finding her parents was what she'd always wanted, but like so many lost children, Emma couldn't shrug off her abandonmet that easily, despite the Charmings' good intentions. Which was why she still couldn't bring herself to call them Mom and Dad just yet. She wanted to let the walls down-let her parents in-but it wasn't something she could just make happen overnight. She had twenty-eight years of hurt to forgive. It was going to be slow going, but Emma knew she would get there eventually. After their adventures in the forest, she and Mary-Margaret had a pretty good mother-daughter understanding already, but forming a bond with David was something else entirely. Truthfully, Emma didn't really know what she wanted from him. A doting father? It was a little late for that. She was a grown woman who was extremely capable of taking care of herself, thank-you-very-much.

All of these thoughts had been plaguing her as of late, the least of which was what to do about Regina "The Evil Queen" Mills. David had wasted no time after their reunion filling Emma in about the goings-on around Storybrooke during her prolonged abscence. She was quite taken aback to learn that Regina seemed to be working towards turning her life around...even if it was more for Henry's sake than any desire to mend fences with Snow and the rest of the town. In fact, if it hadn't been for Regina pulling the dark magic out the portal, Emma and her mother would surely have perished. Loathe as she was to admit it, that was something Emma would not soon forget. In point of fact, she realized now that she owed her son's stepmother a great debt.

Whether or not 'Little-Miss-Merry-Sunshine' would call her on it remained to be seen. You couldn't exactly put anything past the Evil Queen, after all...

In all fairness, though, Henry had seemed genuinely amenable to spending time with her, and if those moments together did some bit of good towards healing Regina's fragile emotional state, well then, Emma really couldn't begrudge her that tiny concession. She, of all people, knew what it was like to live with the crippling pain of regret. Ever since Henry had come back into her life, and probably even before that, Emma had been fighting tooth and nail to be better. To be the mother that her son deserved. He believed in her so fiercely, and Emma would be damned if she ever allowed anything to happen that would damage that little boy's faith in her. If it took to her last breath, Emma swore she would not squander the second chance she'd been given. She supposed, in a way, Regina was only trying to do the same.

However, Regina had much more to make up for than most, and the rest of the citizens of Storybrooke weren't going to be nearly as forgiving.

We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, I guess.

At the moment, Emma's little 'concession' had earned Regina the afternoon with Henry after he was let out of school. Since she was stuck at the office, she wouldn't be able to pick him up, and even though she could've asked Snow and Charming to watch him, Emma was hesitant. Once they'd returned, Snow very quickly packed up and moved into the house that David had once shared with Katherine. Emma wasn't upset by this. Not in the least. After all, her parents had been violently thrust apart for almost thirty years. It was only natural that they'd want their own space and the time to 'reaquaint' themselves. Lord knew, she did not want to be the one to walk in on her parents and see something that was definitely none of her business. Having the apartment to herself with Henry was so much easier and much more within her comfort zone. And so, earlier in the morning, Emma'd made the grudging decision to ask Regina if she'd mind looking after Henry for a couple of hours, to which Her Majesty had only too happily agreed.

Regal issues aside, the main focus of Emma's thoughts for the past couple for hours centered around the enigma that was Storybrooke's most ill-regarded citizen:

Rumplestiltskin.

As of late, Gold had been relatively quiet-reserved even-around town. David had assured her that the pawn shop owner had kept every last darkly magical part of himself in line since she'd been away, even going so far as to admit that, if it hadn't been for Gold, they might never have found a way to communicate across the realms. Not to mention how he'd helped to save Henry from the fires of the Netherealm. Although Emma was grateful, that didn't mean she wasn't still keeping her eye on him.

No...she didn't trust that man any farther than she could throw him.

Fortunately, it seemed as though the pretty new librarian (who Emma had now learned was named Belle) appeared to be providing a calming influence in Gold's life. Generally, this meant that the more time he was spending with her, the less he was getting everyone else riled up. If Emma thought these people had a grudge against the Evil Queen, she had no idea what she was in store for when it came to the Dark One's long list of sins. The fact that she still owed the man a favor and very much needed to speak with him on certain...matters...was driving her to distraction. On one hand, Emma knew that she needed answers about this 'magic'...or whatever it was that she'd been able to fell Cora with. Emma wanted to know if it was just a one-time thing or some sort of natural ability. In all honesty, she really didn't want the burder of some sort of mystical savior superpower-the human lie detector bit was enough for her to deal with.

She was loathe to confront Gold directly, knowing what he truly was and was therefore capable of, but when she remembered holding Graham as he died in her arms and Aurora's shriek of pain as Cora toyed with the princess' heart without a care in the world-if it meant she never had to see another innocent person being ripped apart purely on someone's sick and twisted whim-she'd figure out how to make it work.

A fleeting thought passed through Emma's mind just then about the all-powerful sorcerer and his sweet lady love: the unbreakable Crocodile now had a very obvious and exploitable weakness.

Hook would've loved the irony.

Whoa! Where had that come from?

Emma had been so busy putting the townspeople's lives and her own back together since returning from the Enchanted Forest, that she honestly hadn't had the time to think much on those who'd been left behind in the other realm. Mulan and Aurora, she knew, were very able to take care of themselves, and were probably off on another adventure of their own making. Cora, without doubt, was probably seething from her defeat, which made it highly likely that she'd not stop until she found a way into Storybrooke. Even though things had been quite as of late, everyone knew exactly what kind of threat the witch posed. The whole town was constantly on guard, every citizen poised to defend themselves at the drop of a hat should the need arise.

Hook, however...well...he was an entirely different can of worms.

As many times as his moods had shifted and his allegiances changed, you never quite knew what the smug bastard had planned from one moment to the next. Still, Emma held absolutely no regrets about clocking the insufferable pirate across the face with the compass. When it came right down to it, getting back to Henry was all that mattered. End of story. She would not apologize for her actions, and she certainly knew that Hook would never apologize for his. She also knew how dedicated Hook was to his quest, saw his desperation in every action he took. He would find a way to Storybrooke even if it killed him. This reason, above all, was why Emma had felt she had no choice but to leave him chained up at the top of that beanstalk.

But did you leave him up there for the good of the group...or for yourself?

She couldn't risk it. Not with Henry's life on the line. But Emma couldn't ignore the fact that Hook-Killian-knew her. Inside and out. He had read her through and through, as he'd said, like an open book...almost from the moment they'd met. He understood her so well, it was utterly terrifying. He had managed to see beyond her fortified emotional walls and veneer of cold indifference to the broken soul underneath. What was worse, when she had asked him about Milah, and his demeanor had changed so rapidly, she'd been startled to see her pain reflected in his eyes. To hear the hurt in his voice. In that moment, Emma could see just how broken he truly was. They'd both loved and lost; both suffered. If she'd been any other woman, she might have fallen prey to the 'charming rogue' bit he was playing. Emma, however, was anything but ordinary. In her time as a bail bondsperson, she'd dealt with countless men who'd tried every sexual tactic under the sun to get her to look the other way on an arrest. By now, she was all but immune. Hook was no different. For all of his bravado, arrogance, over-the-top flirting and theatricality, Emma knew the truth of him. That was his armor. Captain Hook was the mask that he allowed everyone to see, while the true Killian Jones was hidden away.

She knew she was no different. And that was why she had to do it. No, he hadn't lied to her, and yes, the sting of her betrayal had hurt him. She'd read the truth in his eyes. But it had to be done...and not because she didn't think she could trust him...but because she was scared to death of trusting him too much. Emma had already been down that road once, with Neal, and swore she'd never let anyone get that close again.

Ugh. Get a grip, woman.

Emma roughly shook all lingering thoughts of the aggravating swashbuckler from her mind...or at least, she tried to. He may not have said as much, but Emma could see it written all over Killian's face: his burning need for vengeance had become all-consuming. It had, literally, taken over his entire life. This was rage and loss and despair, all rolled up into a neat little broken-hearted package. She knew these emotions very well; ran the gamut of them after Neal had abandoned her. This is what drove Killian, she knew, to seek revenge at any cost. Pehaps that was her own secret reason for not wanting him to come through the portal.

Killian wouldn't get anywhere near Rumplestiltskin. The pawn shop owner would cut him down without even batting so much as an eyelash. She might not have condoned the pirate's methods, to be sure, but she understood his heart. She wasn't going to let them kill eachother-not on her watch. This was still her town, and she was still its sheriff. It was her job to protect everyone...or die trying.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cora was suprised at how easy it had been to assimilate herself into this realm. She thought it'd be more difficult, what with magic being so unpredictable here, but she could still feel its power thrumming through her veins, reverberating out into the world with every step she took. It was obvious to her that someone had introduced magic into this world-Rumplestiltskin most likely. Regina, she knew, did not have that kind of prowess. She let emotions guide her actions far too often, and look where it had gotten her.

Her precious daughter was now a Queen without a kingdom.

That would most definitely not do.

Cora had only been in Storybrooke for a few days, but in that time, she had managed to amass quite a bit of interesting information and observation. It was easy enough for her to shift into the guise of some quiet, unassuming townsperson that no one would even look twice at. It's amazing what you can learn when no one realizes that you even exist.

She'd managed to watch the comings and goings of each member of the Charming family, especially Emma and Henry. The boy was every inch his mother, but Cora could see Regina's fire in his eyes. The child had tenacity and a wisdom beyond his years, both traits that, with the right kind of encouragement, would make him a fine sorcerer one day.

But not under Regina's care.

Her love for Henry had caused her daughter to go soft. That would have to be remedied immediately. Which, from Cora's perspective, would not be a difficult feat to accomplish. Regina's relationship with the citizens of Storybrooke was tenuous at best, tolerated at worst. It seemed as though she was breathing only because the Charmings allowed it. It would take very little convincing for these people to turn their backs on Regina completely, which was exactly what Cora wanted to happen.

Once she realizes that she has nowhere else to turn, my little one will see. She will come to me, beg my forgiveness. And then, I will help her take back this kingdom...piece by bloody piece.

Before Cora could attempt to focus all of her attention on her daughter, however, she had another issue to attend to.

Rumplestiltskin.

She had been watching the little imp as well, trotting around after the pretty young girl who owned the bookshop. He was acting like a lovesick schoolboy. It was positively pathetic, but at the same time, immensely useful. The woman was a weakness for her dear, old master. One that Cora could easily exploit. Aside from the Charmings, Rumple was really the only other stumbling block in the way of putting Regina back into a position of power. She knew he would rather see the Queen dead than restored to her full regal splendor. Destroying him, however, would be easier said than done.

Fortunately, Cora had done her homework during all those years she'd been stuck in Wonderland. She knew about the Dark One's dagger and how he could be controlled with it. She also knew it was the only object that could kill him. It was one of the most powerful magical artifacts ever created, and therefore, emmitted a very intense stream of energy. Rumple, she reasoned, probably had not considered this when hiding it, since no one else in this god-forsaken place was magically adept enough to sense it. Not even Regina.

But Cora had sensed its power...almost from the moment she'd set foot in Storybrooke. It took little effort to track the signature to its source, and after some magically-assisted digging, the weapon was finally in her hands.

She had the means, and now she simply needed a hand to guide it towards its destructive purpose.

Cora didn't even have to think twice about who she would use. They may have parted ways when they first arrived, as his agenda was very different from hers, but that didn't mean she was entirely done with the clever Captain. She would've liked to keep him on side, as he could be very useful when properly baited, but while she'd been observing Rumple, Cora had also been keeping a keen eye on Hook. It amused her to think that he actually believed he was being inconspicuous in his stalking.

He hadn't even bothered to change into more acceptable clothing. Talk about being single-minded...

She wasn't entirely sure what Hook's plan was, and quite frankly, she really didn't care. The Captain had absolutely no idea that magic had been brought into this world, which would make him going after Rumple directly akin to suicide. There were far better ways to go about this business, Cora reasoned, and she would give him the means to do so. But not for the reasons she would have Hook believe.

This was killing two birds with one stone.

She'd grown tired of the Captain's poor execution, even if he managed to make up for it on the follow-through. The pirate lacked focus, especially when it came to the allure of a pretty face. Well...a certain pretty face, anyways. She'd noticed that, for as much time as he'd spent watching Rumple like a hawk, he also managed to put a concerted effort towards skulking around any and every location the Swan girl was known to frequent.

She should've known.

It seemed as though the pirate had become infatuated with the princess and could not stop following her, though he'd yet to make his presence known.

Cora did not have the patience to indulge Hook his childish games, but she knew what to do in order to turn his attention her way. Give him the answer to his prayers and watch them all fall.

Cora turned the corner from where she'd been standing onto a relatively quiet, affluent residential street. It took her less than a minute from there to lock on to her destination: the largest and most dominating house on the block. She walked briskly up the steps to the front door, and when she was sure she would not be seen, she shifted quickly back into her normal apprerance, gaudy dress and all. She then gave the door a light knock and waited.

A few moments passed before she was able to make out the sound of footsteps nearing the entryway. Then, the door opened and,

"C-Cora? How in the-" the older man stammered, clearly shocked.

"Hello George," she smiled woodenly, "why don't you invite me in, and I'll tell you all about it?"

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

New York City

August was worn-the-hell-out. No, he was fucking exhausted. When he'd first arrived in New York on the trail of Neal Cassidy, he didn't figure it would take all that much effort to find the guy. After all, he did know where Neal was living. He'd always known.

Even after they parted ways in Canada all those years ago, August never did stop keeping track of him. He had to be sure that Neal kept up his end of the bargain and stayed away from Emma. So far, the man had done as he was told.

August went on to watch over Emma's progress, and even though it hurt him to no end to see her hit rock bottom the way she had, he knew in his heart that it had to be that way. You can't crawl yourself back up to the light unless you've fallen into the darkness first. She would have it rough, but he was sure, in the end, that she'd come out a better person for it.

And damn it if she did.

Now, though, Emma had broken Regina's curse, and so August found himself scouring the streets of New York to fulfill a promise to a guy who probably didn't even deserve it. His first stop, of course had been Neal's apartment, but the place had been cleaned out-recently. A little monetary 'convincing' had allowed him to learn from some of his neighbors that Neal had talked about moving to the New England area for a while, but they never really bought that he intended on going through with it until now.

Apparently, Neal had beaten him to the punch and decided to leave for Storybrooke on his own. Thing was, the town wasn't on any kind of map because it wasn't supposed to actually exist. Neal would never find it on his own.

After that little let down, August scoured the car rental places, the train station, and the airport...only to come up completely empty-handed. Neal Cassidy was proving to be one slippery son-of-a-bitch. The only place he hadn't checked was the bus station, which now that he thought about it, probably was the best way to get to Storybrooke outside of a car. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it sooner.

Walking into the station, August immediately went over to the monitors to peruse the departure times.

Bus number 449. One-way to Augusta, Maine. Departing at 5:00pm. 

Bingo.

Since Neal wouldn't know exactly where Storybrooke was, it wasn't hard to deduce that a major city like Augusta would be his first stop. Looking at his watch, August determind that he might only have about half an hour to scour this place before that bus started its first boarding call.

It took him less than ten minutes.

Knowing Neal as he did, it wasn't difficult to hazard a guess as to where he'd be killing time-the bar. Which is exactly where August found him, nursing a beer and a cigarette, while watching a poker tournament on ESPN.

He sild onto the stool beside Neal and leaned over to whisper, "so much for old dogs and new tricks."

When Neal turned to look in August's direction, the recognition was immediate, and the poor guy almost had a heart attack then and there.

"Holy shit, man!" Neal croaked, running a shaking hand over his face. "How in the hell did you find me?"

"Let's just call it a bit of magic, my friend," August replied evenly as he signalled the bartender for a beer. "So...taking a vacation, I've heard?" August had already made up his mind that he wasn't going to beat arund the bush with this guy. He was just too damn tired.

"You oughta know. You did send me the postcard, didn't you?" Neal retorted, not at all taking the bait.

"Ok, look. Here's how this is gonna go. We don't particularly care for eachother. Great. Fine. Whatever. At the moment though, we do have a common goal," August got straight into it.

"Emma," Neal answered simply.

"Yes. You want to go to Storybrooke and reunite her because she finally broke the curse," he continued as if Neal had said nothing at all.

"Of course. You told me, once she was free, I could see her again. I've been waiting ten years for this," Neal told him, pent-up emotion bleeding into his voice.

"I get it. I know. But you know you can't take the bus," August picked up the map of Maine that Neal had been examining, "because Storybrooke isn't on any map. You'll never find her this way. So," and at this he paused to rub out the headache he knew would soon be coming on, "I'm gonna drive you there. Well...actually...you drive till we hit the Maine state border and I sleep, cause man, I seriously can't even keep my eyes open anymore. You wake me up when we get to that point, and I'll tell you where to go from there," he finished, while slaming back the rest of his beer.

"And why the hell would you be doing this? I mean, we barely know eachother," Neal asked, ever suspicious.

"Because I made a promise once upon a time, and I fully intend to keep it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All copyrights still apply.

Killian Jones was frustrated.

Four days he'd been in this sodding town. Four days he'd sat, perched atop the roof of the clocktower, watching his prey like a hawk. By now, he knew Rumplestiltskin's every bloody movement, from the moment he awoke in the morning until the minute he went to bed at night. He'd barely slept, save for small snatches here and there, out of fear that if he let his guard down, he'd lose site of his Crocodile. Smee brought him nourishment and other amenities whenever he deemed it necessary, but apart from that, he'd yet to waver from his post.

You'd think, by now, he would have a reasonable plan of attack in place. He even had the perfect bait.

Finding out about the pawnshop owner's pretty lady friend was a major boon, indeed. It may have been decades since he's last laid eyes on her, but Hook recognized her immediately. She was the imprisoned girl that he'd once sought out in an attempt to gain information about how to kill the Dark One. She'd not been very forthcoming, to his increasing annoyance. Apparently, from what he'd managed to observe, she actually loved the wretched sack of filth. He could only assume that the girl was naieve to the imp's ways.

What was truly shocking was the fact that the beast was positively besotted with her.

Oh, irony of ironies...

Taking her away from him the way the bastard had taken his Milah...it would be so easy. And a much more fitting punishment than a simple, full-frontal assault. No...gutting that thing would be much too quick a death than he deserved. To watch his lover die-while he was helpless to stop it-now that would be a most satisfying way to make the man suffer. He'd have to live with that memory for the rest of his miserable existence.

And since Rumple was effectively immortal...well...he could be certain the man's agony would never end.

What a lovely thought...

No...Killian's frustration was coming from an altogether different person: Emma Swan.

When he'd first arrived in Storybrooke, she had been the absolute last person on his mind. True, he was still smarting at having been bested by her-a third time, no less-but if he was honest with himself, Killian knew he'd all but given her that last fight. He was a three hundred year old pirate, by the Gods! And she could barely wield a sword. If he'd wanted her dead, she would've been dead. But as much as she'd angered him with her betrayal, he knew that this battle against Cora wasn't worth Emma's life.

He'd already stolen one mother away from her child, and she had died for his selfishness. He'd be damned if he let it happen again. And certainly not at that grotesque witch's hand.

Before his thoughts became too much more morose, he was brought back to reality by the arrival of Smee, who, judging by the time of the day, was probably dropping off more supplies.

"Lunch, Cap'n?" His rotund first mate asked as he plopped himself down next to Hook, handing over a covered paper plate and a thermos.

"Very good, Smee," Hook sighed as he took the offerings and set them aside, "but I'm afraid I've not much of an appetite right at the moment. Too much on my mind, I suppose."

Killian found it oddly comforting, being able to confide in an old friend. He'd genuinely missed the blubbering nonce and had never expected he'd find the man again, so it came came as a complete suprise when Smee had actually been the one to find him. 

This was Smee, after all. The crafty bugger could find a needle in a bleedin' haystack.

Apparently, the marina was his second home, so once he'd spied the Jolly Roger pulling into port (before Cora'd thrown an invisibility enchantment over the ship)...well...it was easy enough to figure things out from there. He was only too happy to press himself into service again for his old master, and of course, it wasn't as though Hook would've given him much choice anyways. His crew, his demands, after all.

"What's got you in such a state, sir? I-If I might ask?" Smee queried cautiously.

"It's...it's nothing really, mate," Hook replied wistfully, his attention and spyglass firmly affixed on a point somewhere across the street. "Just starting to get restless a bit, sitting up here for hours on end and all that."

Yeah. Smee wasn't buy that excuse at all. He followed Hook's line of sight all the way to its end: Granny's. He knew the Captain was well aware of the fact that Rumple had taken his meal at the library, to spend time with Belle today. No...he was aiming sights right at the front window, behind which, the one and only 'savior of the realm' happened to be be sitting and enjoying a cup of hot cocoa with her mother, Snow White.

This was too much. Captain Hook did not pine after a woman. It was they who fought eachother for a mere moment with him. Captain Hook did not get seduced; it was he who did the seducing-leaving many a ravaged woman and even some broken marriages-in his wake. He never fell because the only satisfaction that had come to mean anything to him in three hundred long years, was his revenge.

Not that his master wasn't still dedicated, of that Smee was sure. But if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes...

Killan Jones was smitten.

Abruptly, Hook pulled back his spyglass and turned to his first mate, saying, "That will be all, Smee. Thank you. Now, run along and keep tabs on my Crocodile, would you? I want a full report by the time you return with the evening meal. Am I clear?" His tone brooked no argument.

"Quite, sir. By your leave, Cap'n..." Smee trailed off as he hastily beat feet. It was never a good idea to be around the Captain was he was in one of his 'moods'.

And Killian was definitely in one this afternoon. Even with everything else he had to worry about, he simply could not get the Swan girl off his mind. Despite his initial fury at her actions against him, he found himself unable to stay mad at her for very long. Truth be told, he actually understood her reasoning all too well. Just as he was unflinching in his desire to see the Dark One pay, so was she to reunite with her son. Killian had to give credit to her courage and cunning because the woman had bucketloads of both.

He wasn't kidding when he'd said she'd make a stunning pirate.

But that wasn't what had initially captivated him about her. No...it was her ability call him out on his lies and see through his facade of roguish charm. He'd never had to work that hard for a woman's affections before, and he was finding the challenge thoroughly refreshing, if not a bit irritating at the same time.

Emma Swan was the most obstinate woman he'd ever met, but when she'd asked him about Milah on top of that beanstalk, and then finally managed to let her guard down just the tiniest fraction with the truth about her past love, he saw something in her that utterly shook him to his core.

He saw himself.

All the pain and loss, the anger and despair-it was like looking in a mirror. He'd never felt so fiercely connected with someone in his entire life. Which was why, when she'd left him strung up there for ten mind-numbing hours, he'd been unbelievably gutted. He really had been planning to keep to his word about the compass, and not only for the fact that they were a safer bet than Cora, but because he really did enjoy her company.

And he honestly thought they could help eachother. Perhaps that was why he was so venomous with Emma when he'd trapped her in Rumplestiltskin's old cell. Granted, taking the sleeping princess' heart was probably not the most honorable thing to do, but he was desperate...and so incredibly furious. He'd never been so upended over a woman before, and he suspected, it was this same emotion that caused his Swan to bolt they way she had.

When had he begun to think of her as his? Bloody hell...

She was too afraid of investing herself, of trusting, only to have him turn around and disappear as soon as he was done with her. She was leaving him before he could leave her.

And that was why Killian couldn't find it within himself to feed her to the sharks during that last skirmish with Cora. He knew Emma would've rushed the witch full-on, if she'd had the chance. She would've given her life to get back to her son. He also knew Cora wouldn't have hesitated to rip her to pieces with but a flick of her wrist. The odds were horribly stacked against her unless he managed to distract her, so he resorted to his best tactic: blatant innuendo. If his toying with her could keep Emma out of Cora's way, she stood a much better chance of getting her hands on the compass. He wasn't really worried about his mealticket.

He did have the bean, after all.

Gods help him, but the blasted woman was beginning to occupy his every thought. And he absolutely could not lose focus on his mission. He owed it to Milah.

Sod it.

There was only one way to end this confounding obsession-he would have his way with her. And this would not be a quick roll in the hay, either. No...he'd ravish her in true pirate fashion, and when he'd bled every last drop of maddening lust from his body, she would be thoroughly sated, devastated, and obliterated from his mind.

Then he could go back to the business at hand...skinning himself a Crocodile.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cora was not at all shocked by George's choice in home decor. She fully expected him to be living as lavishly as possible. He was, after all, royalty. Even if he had been displaced most disgracefully. That, she knew, was what always made him weak-his crippling need for luxury.

And his intensely bitter hatred of Prince Charming and Snow White. Which was why she'd sought him first. Offer the man the means to destroy his enemies, and she was sure he'd jump at the chance like a wraith in a shitstorm. Besides, king or no king, he knew better than to defy her. Even before Regina's reign of terror, he'd seen the destruction she was capable of.

Yes...she was quite confident that he'd go along with her plans. And either way...she had the best insurance policy magic could buy.

At the moment, she was seated in the parlor, awaiting George's return with increasing levels of ire.

Finally, after a few more minutes, he entered the room carrying what looked to be some sort of ornately designed tea service. He set the tray down on the coffee table carefully and proceeded to pour out two cups of the beverage, handing the first one to her, while taking a seat with the second.

"Why, thank you, George," Cora drawled with false gratitude. "I was feeling rather...parched."

The former monarch nodded and replied, somewhat nervously, "Cora...not that I'm not curious about just how the hell you got here, but...you do realize that the curse has been broken? Last time I checked, you and your daughter were not on the best of terms...and that was before she tried to kill you. Now that magic has been brought into this realm and Regina has that power at her disposal...well...don't you think you're taking a huge risk coming out into open like this?"

Cora placed her teapcup back on the serving dish daintily and gave his hand a condescending little pat. "Now, Now...don't you worry yourself about such things, dear. I will handle my daughter, " and the smile she gave him was the epitome of chilling. "Right now, I have much bigger plans in store for you."

"What exactly are you getting at?" He asked, stubbornly. George might fear what she was capable of, but he was damn sure not about to get sucked into one of her mind games.

"I'm here to offer an olive branch of sorts," Cora began, reaching into her cloak and pulling out a tightly wrapped, oddly shaped object. She laid it on her lap reverently and continued, "because I know that, despite our...differences...we both untimately want the same thing-this kingdom back where it belongs."

"And the Charmings destoyed," he quickly supplied, just as she knew he would.

She slowly unwrapped the object, just enough for George to get an identifying glimpse. When he realized what it was, his face drained of color. If Cora still had the ability care, she might've found his reaction amusing.

"Is that-" he gulped, arching his eyebrows and pointing a quivering finger at what she held. "Is that what I think it is?"

"If you mean the one weapon that can destroy Rumplestiltskin...then you would be correct," she answered succintly, wrapping the blade back up and leaning towards him conspiratorially. "This is your first step. Use this, and you can put him in the ground once and for all. After that, with me handling Regina, there will be no one else in your way powerful enough to stop you from taking back what is yours and eradicating the Charmings from existence."

By now, old Georgie-boy was grinning like the cat that got the canary. Shame she was going to have to wipe that smirk of his face before long.

"Cora, you are one monstrous piece of work...but I like the way you think."

"Of course you do, because my plan works in your favor," she quipped, wanting to nip George's enthusiasm in the bud before he got ahead of himself. "Do not insult my intelligence by attempting to convince me that your intentions towards this alliance are anything less than altruistic. You forget, dearie...I know you."

"I wouldn't presume to," he replied, reaching out to take the dagger. Before he could get ahold of it, though, Cora pulled back, shaking a finger slowly back and forth, so close to his face, it was almost up his nose.

"Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast," she cooed, mirthlessly. "You are not to confront him directly, am I understood?"

"Well, yes, but...I mean, how-" but she cut him off before he could finish, having become tired of his game of twenty questions.

"I have someone in mind for the job. Someone much more...motivated...and far less concerned about getting his hands dirty. You, I simply wish to be my courier. Now listen, and listen well. You will go in town and make contact with a man named Smee. Trust me, he will not be difficult to find. Tell him you have some information that his master would be very highly interested in. If he balks, make it worth his wile-however much you deem sufficient. When Hook meets with you-and I assure you, he will-" and at this, she slipped the package into his hands, "-give him the dagger. Tell him it is the answer he seeks, and that with it, he can finally skin his Crocodile."

"Very well. But after the deed is done and that...creature...is no more, then we can get down to the heart of our bargain, correct? Taking our power back?" George asked, with the slight hint of a five year-old's eagerness.

"The heart...yes...of course," Cora grinned wickedly, and suddenly, all traces of enthusiasm were banished from the King's face.

I should've seen it coming. It is, after all, her way.

And then he felt it-that sharp, soul-wrenching tug against his ribcage. His eyes went like saucers, and a choking gasp was torn from his lungs as he turned his gaze slowly, agonizingly downward.

Cora's hand was buried deeply within his chest, tendrils of magic encasing his heart, which she ripped out with nothing more than a wet squish.

Holding the heart securely in the palm of her hand, she listened as it steadily beat a melody only for her to hear. It was music to her hears.

She placed it carefully in her satchel and then rose to leave.

George could only look on in horrified silence. He knew now that he would never get his kingdom back. If he was lucky, he might be able to escape with his life, although the chances of that were petrifyingly slim.

"I trust we won't have any further...disagreements? I would hate to have to crush what what we've built, you know. That would be disappointing, wouldn't it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you continue to enjoy the story. Please don't make the wrong assumption about Hook at first glance from the way I've written him. I'm starting him off the closest to the way I think his state of mind would be at this point. Trust me, he'll change his tune soon enough. Keeping this T for now, but may raise it to M in the next chapter if I manage to get to the sexual stuff quick enough.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All copyrights still apply. 
> 
> For time frame purposes, Emma and her mother have been back in Storybrooke for a week; Cora and Hook for 4 days. Neal and August left New York maybe 2 days or so after Emma's return, which should bring them into town along the same timeline. There will be some sexual scenes in this chapter, so in order to set the mood for that, I encourage you all to take a listen to "If I Didn't Know Better" by Civil Wars. The song literally oozes seduction and speaks to everything that is Emma and Killian.

August looked over from his position behind the steering wheel to glance at the sleeping form of Neal Cassidy with nothing short of complete and total annoyance. Neal was slumped against the passenger-side window, with his head resting atop a folded up jacket that was serving as a makeshift pillow. He was out cold and snorning so many logs, you'd think he was Paul-fucking-Bunyan.

The noise was grating on August's eardrums like fingernails on a chalkboard.

As another exit sign rolled past his field of vision, he began to realize that it wouldn't be long before they'd be coming up on the Storybrooke town limits. He let out a very relieved sigh. Finally, his journey would soon be at an end; his promise fulfilled. Maybe, just maybe, this time he'd actually find it in himself to go see his father and seek forgiveness for his wrongs. For not being the son his father had always dreamed he'd be.

He was pleased that they'd managed to make such good time on this trip. Neal had driven almost ten straight hours from New York to just shy of the Maine state line, stopping only for gas and to use the facilities. He'd insisted that he could keep going, but August could tell that Neal was beyond tired. Besides, since they were approaching Maine, it was August's turn to take over, anyways. Six hours later, and now he could just make out the Storybrooke welcome sign in the distance.

Coming to a stop a few feet from the boundary line, he engaged the parking brake, and let his palm hover just slightly above the car horn. Yeah...maybe it was an evil thing to do, but he owed sir-snores-a-lot a little payback for putting up with all the racket he'd made the last couple of hours. With a little smirk, August slammed his palm down on the horn. Hard.

Neal's reaction to the thunderous blaring was instantaneous: he startled awake so fast and with such momentum, that he accidently smacked his head on the window.

"Ow!" he bellowed, his eyes opened wide and head in his hands. "Shit, man! What the hell?!"

"Relax," August responded, trying and failing to hide a laugh. "I had to wake you up somehow. By the way...we're here," he gestured toward the front of the car, where the welcome sign was now just a few feet away. Before Neal could say anything, August turned the engine off and wearily stepped out of the car, taking a minute to stretch his legs. He looked over at Neal after a moment, expecting him to have gotten out of the car as well, but he seemed to be just sitting there, staring off into the distance in some sort of quiet contemplation.

August went over to the passenger side and rapped the window to get Neal's attention. "Step out for a second. We need to talk."

Wordlessly, Neal got out of the car and joined him on the other side, leaning up against the frame with his arms crossed. "Well? What's so important?"

Rolling his eyes August replied, "you know what, Romeo? How about you give the attitude a rest? Just because I brought you here, doesn't mean I have to put up with your crap."

"Really? That's how it's gonna be?" Neal bit back. "Last I checked, you were the one who came up with this asinine plan in the first place! You didn't have to come and find me! I could've gotten here on my own! But no...you just had to do it. How else were you gonna make yourself feel better for being such a screw-up?"

"Hey! I don't need you to tell me that I've made mistakes! That I let her down!" August snapped, getting right in Neal's face. They were now almost nose to nose like two animals preparing for a stand-off. "As if you're any better?! Yeah. Don't make me laugh." He then turned around, taking few steps away to regain his composure.

Neal, for his part, wisely chose this moment to shut his mouth.

Facing him once more, August continued with utmost seriousness, "Right. There are some things you need to know about this place before we go any further. First and foremost...the boundary." He explained, gesturing towards the bright orange spray painted line on the pavement. "The curse was broken, yes, but the town is still under an enchantment. Anyone touched by the curse who crosses that line will lose all memory of their true selves. Only their false identity will remain. Those unaffected by the curse, like Emma and myself, should be relatively protected. Don't forget that the people you'll see have been, pretty much, living in a bubble for the past twenty-eight years. They know very little of the outside world beyond Storybrooke, and they are fiercely protective of eachother. Their way of life is very different from anything you could possibly understand. Be as respectful as you can, and do not, under any circumstances, draw attention to yourself. They don't take too well to stangers, I'll just say that much. Whatever we do once we find Emma, it needs to be away from prying eyes. Trust me, you don't want anyone getting the wrong idea about you because you have absolutely no idea what these people are capable of. Got me?"

Not fazed in the least by August's rambling, Neal answered, "Yeah, yeah. I got it. Can we just get moving already?

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Emma had just stepped out of the diner, lingering only long enough to wave goodbye to Snow, who returned the gesture with a loving smile before resuming her conversation with Ruby. She was just about to make her way across the street to the sheriff's office, when she noticed an unfamiliar car pull up along the curb and stop. Since she'd been in Storybrooke, Emma had become relatively adept at picking out things that were unsual...at least by fairytale standards anyway. She remembered what Henry had said about that fact that strangers didn't ever come to the town. But now that the curse had been broken...well...who could be sure?

Resuming her leisurely walk-but still keeping a watchful eye-she'd barely made it even a few steps before she found herself coming to a dead stop, right in the middle of the street. She immediately recognized the figure of August Booth as he opened the driver's side door and climbed out. In actuality, Emma was more than a little relieved to see him, since he'd all but disappeared right after the curse was broken. She'd wondered why he would just up and leave like that, but untimately, found herself having little time to worry over him after she wound up stuck in the Enchanted Forest.

But it wasn't August's presence that stilled her. No...it was his passenger that caused her blood to turn ice cold as a torrent of barely suppressed rage began to slowly rise within her. At that moment, her field of vision collapsed to encompass one single, solitary figure: Neal Cassidy.

No. This cannot be happening. Please, God, no...

Emma suddenly wished she had better control of this new 'savior superpower' of hers. Maybe then, she could conjure up that box of watches he'd duped her with and shove them so far up his ass, he'd be tasting high-end chrome finish for the rest of his life. Or maybe she could summon David's sword and chop him into little bits and pieces.

But none of that would erase what he'd done to her. Besides, she didn't just have herself to consider anymore. She had to think of Henry.

Although, she had to admit, it would make her feel a whole hell of a lot better.

Instead, she calmly walked right up to the car, and looking her ex-lover dead in the face, said with an air of complete and total detachment, "Neal."

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Killian descended from the rooftop of the clocktower with all the stealth born of three hundred years of plundering and pillaging, while carefully making his way towards the back of the building. From there, he quietly slipped into the alley between that structure and the place he'd come to know as 'the stocks'-the sheriff's office.

He actually had a bit of a spring in his step at the prospect of enticing Emma Swan into his bed. A tough lass she was, no doubt, but Killian had always believed that the most memorable conquests were the most hard won. But he would have her. This he swore. And when he'd had his fill, he'd leave her begging-pleading-for more.

From his hidden vantage point, he had an almost entirely unobstructed view of Granny's diner. He could just now see Emma exiting and waving to her mother. He was considering waiting for her to go back into the office, where he would then surreptitiously sneak in through a window or side door. When she entered the room proper, he'd already be there, ready and waiting.

Unfortunately, though, something seemed to catch her attention most decidedly, as she'd come to an absolute standstill right in the middle of the throughfare. Looking at her now, Killian didn't think he'd ever seen her so rigid. Her hands had balled to fists at her sides, and he could practically feel the heat of emotions coming off of her in waves. She was almost shaking with it.

He turned his attention toward the direction of her gaze as it landed on the two blokes who had just exited from the stange metal carriage that Smee had told him was referred to as a 'car'.

Curious... Who were these men to his Swan? Who were they to have upset her so?

Killian decided that the best way to find out was also the easiest: eavesdrop.

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The moment Neal Cassidy locked eyes with Emma Swan, the woman he'd left behind but still loved even to this day, he found himself completely without words. It was as if his brain simply could not register the fact that she was standing there, right before him, in all her furious glory.

She was more beautiful than he remembered. 

God, how he'd missed her.

To her credit, Emma just stood there. She could've hauled off and slapped him. Maybe worse. As a matter of fact, he was fully expecting it. He couldn't say that he didn't deserve whatever lashing she might give him. He was fully aware of his own guilt and had been haunted by it for eleven years. Still, she just stood there.

And then she spoke.

"You. Do. Not. Get. To. Call. Me. That." She might as well have been breathing fire, her anger was so great. "Ever."

"Emma...please. Wait..." he tried, but she put a finger up to stop him before he could even start.

"No. You wait," she spat, venomously. Then, without preamble, Emma grabbed her cell phone from her pocket, and placed a call. He had no idea who she was speaking with, as he could only hear one side of the stilted conversation, but not once did she take her eyes off of him as she spoke.

/"Regina? Yeah, its me. Listen, I need you to keep Henry for the night. Are you alright with that? Yes, everything is fine. Something just came up at the last minute, and it'll probably keep me out late tonight. No, he's got a key. Just bring him by for his things whenever you want. He can let himself in. Tell him I'll see him in the morning. Thanks."/

Who the hell was Henry?

He didn't have the chance to contemplate that thought much further, because no sooner had she put the phone back in her pocket, then her fist came flying forward with a vicious haymaker. Neal didn't even know what hit him. He pitched backwards, but Emma caught his wrist and, using a takedown move, slammed him onto the ground with a resounding thud.

Before he could even attempt to defend himself, Emma was coming at him in a state of total fugue. The always calm and collected 'savior of the realm' was no more.

She had snapped.

She loomed over him and then bent down to grab a fistful of his hair, just enough to lift his head off the ground so that she could continue pummeling him. Which is exactly what she did. Punch after punch after punch. Even after she heard his nose crack and felt his blood pour out onto her hands, she kept going.

"YOU ASSHOLE! YOU FUCKING PIECE OF GARBAGE!" She yelled, her voice loud enough to carry almost all the way down the street.

Up until now, August was trying to maintain a respectable distance, in order to give the two of them their privacy, but when Emma opened up on Neal in front of God and the world, he moved forward in a flash, coming up and grabbing her from behind. He tried to pin her arms to her sides and hold her back, bellowing, "EMMA! Goddamnit! Stop! You don't understand what's going on!"

But she wasn't hearing any of it. She struggled against him, pitching them both backwards and slamming him up against the car door. Momentarily stunned, August loosened his grip and she managed to force her way out of his hold. He tried to grab her at her wrist, maybe put her in some kind of an armbar if necessary, but she decided to use his grip as leverage, thrusting out her leg to hit him squarely in the groin.

The wind was knocked completely out of his lungs, and he was in so much pain, he couldn't even scream. He hit the ground, knees buckling, and slumped over sideways. Emma didn't even stop to take a breath, instead turning back around to lunge after Neal again.

Right about that time, Snow had heard the commotion from her place at the front door of Granny's, while Charming's attention had been grabbed by the scene as he was walking up from the hardware store to meet her. They both glanced at eachother for a quick second, and then sprinted across the street to get ahold of Emma before she wound up killing somebody.

Charming got there first, and roughly threw his arms around Emma from behind in a bear hug. Luckily for Neal, her father had managed to get to her before his daughter had the chance to initiate round two. When just trying to hold her back, arms pinned, didn't work, the royal had no choice but to bodily hoist her, kicking and screaming like a raging banshee, to a safer place across the street.

Within seconds of that, Snow swooped in to assess the poor man's injuries and offer whatever help she could. Just because her daughter was waling on the guy, didn't mean she was going to stand by and watch him bleed to death. She spared a passing glance at August, her gaze doing a quick visual for trauma, but he waved her off and managed to pick himself back up, though not without a fair amount of difficulty.

"EMMA! EMMA, STOP! JUST STOP! IT'S OVER! LET GO!" Charming yelled at the top of his lungs, though she continued to thrash about wildly in his arms. He pulled her close into his chest, squeezing as much as he dared, and whispered sternly into her ear, "Emma...please...it's over. Let go...just let go..."

And just like that, at hearing her father's calming voice, it seemed as though all of Emma's will to keep fighting simply bled out of her. Her fugue state had finally passed, and she felt as though her mind had finally manged to reconnect with her body. All of a sudden, all the grief, all of the pain that she'd hidden away behind her thick, fortress-like walls, abruptly hit her like a ton of bricks. Cheaving heaving, she collapsed into her father's arms, as huge, gut-wrenching sobs wracked her body.

Though he felt completely out of his depth, Charming did his best to offer what comfort he could, murmuring words of love and support as he held her close. "Shh...shhh. Yeah...that's it. It's alright, sweetheart. I've got you. Daddy's got you...just let it go..."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Killian was mesmerized.

He knew his Swan was a firebrand, but he had no idea that she could be capable of such blind rage. Though he definitely understood it. Had felt the same tidalwave of fury overtake him as was forced to watch the Crocodile rip Milah's heart from her chest. The crushing grief as he held her, dying, in his arms.

Emma Swan would never admit it, but Killian could sense it. She had a darkness in her to rival even his own.

Gods help him, but she was awe inspiring. 

By now, he'd surmised one thing for certain: that piece of blige waste that she'd soundly thrashed was her Crocodile. The lost love. The one who had broken her and destroyed not only her ability to trust others, but more importantly, herself.

Out of nowhere, Killiam had the sudden, overwhelming urge to walk over there and gut the bastard from stem to stern.

He didn't know the exact circumstances behind it all, but in the end, it didn't really matter. Sure, he was capable of being a real son-of-a-bitch at times. After all...he was a pirate. But he would never, ever, hurt someone in such a way, least of all a woman. To make a person suffer such crippling despair...it was unconcienable. To him, men like that were a worthless waste of breath, fit only to be keelhauled.

He watched as she continued to sob into her father's chest, having to exercise every ounce of willpower in his body not to go over there and hold her, himself. To find some way to ease her pain.

Eventually, some sort of medical person had been summoned (Dr. Whale), and he, along with the chap called 'August' helped carry the bloodied mess of a man inside the sheriff's office. Snow White then immediately ran to her daughter's side and enveloped her in a huge hug. The Charming family simply sat on the sidewalk holding eachother, until it seemed as though Emma had finally managed to calm down. A few moments later, they all stood up, the doting parents silently leading their agrieved daughter back into the office.

Killian knew he should probably leave; make his way back up to the clocktower. He was risking getting caught out in the open like this. But he found himself unable to command his legs to move. He was huddled just underneath the barred jail cell window. Since the office wasn't very big, by any sense of the word, he didn't have to struggle to hear the echoes of the conversations that were taking place inside.

He knew this was wrong. It was bad form to intrude on someone's private affairs like this, but he just couldn't tear himself away. He wanted to hear what this ex-lover of hers had to say for himself. He wanted to know what this sack had done to damage his Swan so profoundly.

Because if he knew, then he could make damn sure it would never happen again.

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Snow led a now-markedly calmer Emma over to the sheriff's desk and eased her into a chair. Fortunately for everyone concerned, Granny and Ruby had instantly followed behind them, affecting crowd control. All those with enquiring minds had been made to disperse without much argument.

David began furiously checking his daughter for any indictation of injury, immediately noticing her bruised and bloodied knuckles. He quickly slipped into the bathroom and returned a moment later with an arm-full of first aid supplies. He made quick work of tending her wounds while Snow rubbed her back and whispered more words of comfort.

Emma, for her part, wasn't really listening to anything. She sat, staring; her mind in a daze. Her gaze travelled over to wher Dr. Whale was tending to Neal in the office's only jail cell. It might not have been the most practical place for emergency medical care, but it had the only thing even remotely resembling a bed that they could lay him down on. Watching the scene unfold before her, Emma thought she should feel...something. The pain in her hands. Anger and rage at Neal. But she felt none of it. All she felt was...numb.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed before Dr. Whale finished his work. Nothing was really making sense in her mind right now. Whale came over to Charming and took him aside, ostensibly to tell him of Neal's condition. They spoke in hushed tones, but she could make out words like "-broken nose" and "-concussion." Before long, Whale had taken his leave, telling Emma that if she needed anything, not to hesitate to call.

She could only nod mutely at his retreating form.

Charming came back and sat down next to Emma just as August emerged from the cell, pulling up a chair a cautionary distance from all three of them. He knew that the conversation they were about to have was going to be highly emotional, and he had no desire to become a punching bag.

He leaned forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees, and said softly, "Emma...I...I'm so sorry. I-"

But she cut him off, the sound of his voice seeming to reinvigorate her dulled senses. "No. Don't. Just...don't. You do not get to speak to me right now."

It was obvious to her now that August had been keeping things from her. Lying to her...just like they all did. But this time...oh, this time, she was going to get the truth. One way or another.

Charming chose that moment to speak up, but not before shooting August a stern glare. "Emma?" He tried, lightly, and to his relief, she turned to him. "Listen...I know your mother and I have a lot to make up for in the parent department, but...we're here now. And we're not going anywhere. So...please...talk to us. Tell us what's going on because you scared us both to death out there."

Emma looked between them both wondering, not for the first time, if she was really going to be able to do this. If she was finally going to be able to let someone in. At this point, the decision had already been taken away from her. They'd seen everything, and there was no way she could ever go back and make it all disappear.

Sighing wearily, she finally made her confession. They would know now how this world had not protected her, as they'd hoped. How it had ruined her.

"I don't remember very much from my childhood, other than being constantly moved from foster home to foster home. I always wanted to be adopted. To have a real family, but no one ever wanted me like that. Those that did take me in...well...let's just say it was more for the government check that came every month than any desire to have a child around. When they couldn't find a place for me, I usually wound up in an orphanage. It wasn't much better, believe me. When I was seventeen, I aged out of the foster care system and was pretty much on the streets from there. I didn't really mind it, though. I was used to taking care of myself. Granted, breaking into cars, pickpocketing, and running short cons was probably not the best way to live, I know. But it was what it was. Once I wound up in Portland, I tried to steal a car, my yellow bug actually, but imagine my suprise when this strange guy just popped right out of the back seat," Emma paused, letting her gaze linger on an unconscious Neal for a moment.

Her parents followed her line of sight and nodded in understanding, gently urging her to continue.

"Anyways, as it turns out, he was trying to steal the car, too. What a coincidence, right? We almost got busted by a cop, but he pretended I was his girlfriend and told him he was trying to teach me to drive stick. Somehow, the guy actually bought it. And then he asked me out for a drink. We were together for almost a year. We, uh, we pretty much lived out of that car. Stealing and conning to survive. But we were happy. Eventually, we started talking about maybe giving up our life of crime and really trying to settle down. But we were broke," she paused again, trying to stop fidgeting with her aching hands. Snow gently picked up her hands and held them in her own, giving Emma silent encouragement.

"Then, one day, he comes to me really upset. Tells me he just saw a wanted poster of himself at the bus station. See, a couple of years back, he pulled this heist. Stole twenty thousand dollars worth of watches and hid them in a locker at the bus depot. He was hoping to fence them for the money, so that we could start over fresh, in Tallahassee. But the cops knew what he looked like from the poster, so he couldn't go get the watches. He was gonna disappear to Canada without me, but I told him no. Said that I could go get the watches myself, since the cops weren't looking for me. So I did. I went and got them, then met up with Neal later. He gave me one to wear and then said he was going to arrange things with his fence. He told me to meet him at our usual place at nine o'clock," her voice started to choke a bit as tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

"I waited for him for over an hour, but he never showed up. The cops did, though, and I got arrested for his crime. There was nothing I could've said that they were going to believe. I was wearing the evidence, for Christ's sake! So...I was sentened to eleven months in a minimum security facility and never saw or heard from Neal again," at this, the tears had started falling again. Not in earnest, but in a slow, resigned sort of way.

"Two months into my sentence, I received a package postmarked from Canada. It was the key to the yellow bug on a swan keychain. I also found out I was pregnant..." she trailed off, emotionally spent. All she wanted right now was to go back to her apartment, crawl under the covers, and lock herself away from the world. Maybe, if she was gone long enough, Neal would take the hint and get lost.

Snow and Charming just looked at eachother, sharing a nod of silent understanding, and moved in to envelope her in their arms. No words were necessary because nothing they could say would ever be enough to take back what had happened to her, to rewrite her life. All they could do was just be there and hope that was enough.

After a few minutes, the numbness that Emma had been feeling had begun to ebb away, and a sense of akwardness started settling in. As much as she was grateful for their comfort, this was still not something she was used to, and before long, it was making her feel claustrophobic. She shifted a little in her chair, indicating that she was alright now, and it was fine for them to back away. Once they did though, her eyes immediately rose to meet August's troubled countenance. Green locked onto blue with a fierceness, and suddenly, August wanted to be anywhere but where he was. He shifted his gaze away, feeling completely unworthy to even look at her anymore. But he knew she wasn't going to just let him walk away from this. He had to tell her, one way or the other, and if he lost her because of it, then it was the price he would have to pay for his selfishness.

"Emma," he began, almost tentatively, "there were things that I...that I couldn't tell you before. You didn't believe yet, and I wasn't sure that you ever would. But, that's my fault. Because I failed you. When my father built the wardrobe, he made a deal with the blue fairy that there was to be enough room for two to go through. He wanted to spare me from the curse. The night he sent me, just before Regina cast her curse, he told me that I had to be strong because I was going to be the one to watch over you. I was supposed to take care of you, as a brother. Nurture you. Make sure you knew everything about our history, so that when the time came, and you were strong enough, you would embrace your destiny and break the curse," he paused, his voice becomming thick with emotion.

"But what kind of person gives a nine year old kid that kind of responsibility?! I didn't know what the hell I was doing, and on top of that, I was in a completely unfamiliar realm. Everything was different here, and everything was a temptation. At first, you and I were in the same foster home together. It was alright for a while, but pretty soon, I guess I got tired of having to deal with a baby all the time. You were eight months old, and I just wanted to be a little boy, not a parent. It's no excuse, I know. Eventually, one of the kids in the home stole some cash from the foster mother and wanted us all to run away. To be free. I didn't want to go at first, because I didn't want to leave you, but the chance to get out...the temptation was too great. We were on the streets for a couple of years, and I realized I had made a huge mistake. I wanted to go back to the foster home and find you. So I did. But too much time had passed, and you were already gone. I got by on my own for a while, but I never stopped searching for you. When you finally aged out of the system, I got lucky, and managed to track you down in Portland. But I couldn't stand what I was seeing. Your life wasn't supposed to be that way. You were not supposed to be on the streets, shacked up with a thief, having to steal to survive. You had a destiny, and I had fix things before your life got any worse. So...when I heard about the watch thing, I followed Neal and chased him down. Needless to say, we had a very enlightening conversation, and I made him understand how important you were."

At this, Emma's eyes went wide.

No... Please don't tell me this is going where I think this is going...

"I told him that he needed to walk away. Now, trust me, he objected at first. Vehemently. But I explained to him that it was the only way. Neither of us wanted you to go to prison, but at the time, it was the only way to be sure you'd straighten your life out. You know what happened after that. Two months later, we met up again in Canada. He'd fenced the watches and gave me an envelope with $23,000 dollars in it, along with the swan key chain. He said he wanted you to have it, so that when you got out, you'd have a way to take care of yourself. He also made me promise that...that once you broke the curse and you were free, I would send him a postcard so that he could come and find you."

Once he was done, August looked positively deflated. He ran his hands through his hair and then down over his face, tiredly.

"August...I never got any damn money," she told him, woodenly.

"I know. I told him it wasn't a good idea to give it to me, but he did anyway. I...I shouldn't...I kept the cash. Though now, I wish I had never laid eyes on it."

And so there it was. It wasn't just Neal who'd destroyed her. August had his own twisted part to play in this fractured fairytale.

How many more people were going to disappoint her? Were going to lie to her? Was that the sum of her life now? An eternity of torment?

"You know what...if you were still wooden, I bet that nose of yours would be long enough to stretch the length of Storybrooke, you asshole," she replied, her tone cold and flat.

He made no effort to reply. There was no point. There was nothing left to say.

The numbness was starting to creep in again. She couldn't stand to be in this room anymore. She felt a burning need to just get out. To get away. To run...somewhere.

Anywhere.

"Emma...you should know...Neal did what he did because he loved you. Because he wanted what was best for you, and he knew it wasn't him," August offered, though he knew it was little consolation.

"Bullshit!" She spat, getting up out of her chair with so much force, she almost knocked it over. "He made a choice, August! So did you! It doesn't matter what your excuses are! You always have a choice!"

Can't breathe. Need air. Need to get out!

With that, Emma bolted for the front door, and when her parents moved to intercept her, she held a hand up to stop them in their tracks. "No! Just...please...don't. I need to...I need to walk away from this. I just need everyone to leave me the hell alone for a while, okay?"

They looked at her, their eyes full of worry, and a silent agreement passed between them. They stepped aside, and then Emma was gone.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Killian's ears were burning by the time he spied Emma running out of the sheriff's office. She didn't get into her car, and no one appeared to be following her.

It was as he'd suspected.

The man was a disgusting coward, and he deserved every ounce of punishment he received. The August chap was no better.

He swore to himself that, once the git had healed up enough to be at least midly coherent, he'd finish what she started. His way.

This gutter slime had hurt her, deeply. Left her to pay for his crime, and then bear his child, alone.

And what was worse, he actually had the gall to claim that he was doing her a favor? Even Killian could not sink to depths so vile.

Make no mistake, boy. You will know her pain...one way or another.

Coming out of his reverie, he watched as she made her way down the main path out of town. This was his chance. If he managed to pace her, he'd likely be able to catch up with her once she reached the outskirts of town. There was no one around at the moment, as the hour was growing late, so he took off at a jog, following her from behind the buildings. After a little while, she finally reached the edge of town. At this point, she could either keep moving forwards, into the forest, or she could shift directions and head for her only other option: the marina.

She stopped for a moment, as if trying to decide where she wanted to go. He was sorely tempted so make his presence known right then, but he wanted to see what she would do first.

Luckily for him, she made the right choice.

She headed towards the harbor, her gate soon becomming less rigid, less urgent. That was a good sign. It meant she was starting to relax. If he'd attempted to approach her beforehand, he suspected she might've reacted quite badly. Worse yet, he still didn't know what he was going to say once he did approach her. He knew he couldn't dare tell her that he had heard and seen everything. She would be mortified and could possibly fly into another rage. No...he had to treat this delicately.

She walked along the waterfront aimlessly, seemingly lost in her own world of quiet contemplation, and then decided to take a seat on one of the benches, staring solemnly out into the blackness of the night.

Carefully, so as not to startle her, Killian came around front, and then sat quietly down beside her. He kept his distance and did not try to touch her in any way.

"Hello, lass. Mind if I join you for a bit? You look as though you could use the company." He voice was soft, and he didn't actually look at her, but rather kept his gaze staring out at the dark, rolling ocean.

Emma looked at him out of the corner of her eye. If the circumstances had been different, she might've put a dagger to his throat. She knew that him being here could not mean anything good. But at this point, she just could not find the strength within her to give a damn.

"So...I take it you found a way through?" She asked, her voice low, cool.

"I always have a backup plan, love. Anything less would be bad form," he replied, evenly.

"Of course. The bean, I assume?" She asked, directly.

"Why, yes. Lake Nostos is a lovely place for gardening, wouldn't you say?" He was being flippant, but she just ignored it.

"I guess that means Cora is with you?" Because her life could not get any worse, could it?

"If by with me, you mean did she come along for the ride? Then, yes. But, we're most definitely not together, darling. Cora and I parted ways the moment she set foot on dry land," he answered her honestly.

She looked at him as he spoke, because she had to be sure. Mercifully, there was no deception.

"Still after Rumplestiltskin, then?" She really didn't beat around the bush.

"Always, love. Always," he flashed her one of his trademark smouldering grins, and Emma actually found herself having to work hard to supress a smirk from forming at the corner of her mouth.

He noticed, though, and smiled inwardly at the small victory.

She should arrest him. Her mind was telling her to slap on the cuffs, if only to keep him as far away from Gold as possible.

She couldn't take losing anyone else. She just couldn't.

But, more than that, she just wanted to escape. From everyone. From everything.

Just then, Emma turned to Killian and looked at him. Really looked at him. There was no false charm there, no mask of bravado. For this one moment, he was being completely and totally genuine.

Why fight him? What was even the point anymore?

He watched her, then, as she appraised him, and before he realized what was happening, he found himself becomming inexplicably drawn to her.

The moonlight reflected off the golden hue in her eyes, and caused them to shine with a certain kind of irridescence that was intensely captivating.

His finger began to twirl the long locks of her silvery hair, and amazingly enough, she made no move to stop him.

His fingertips started to inch ever so slowly towards the soft flesh of her cheek, and-

Wait. What in the hell was he doing? 

He was not supposed to be falling like this. He had made up his mind to forget about her and focus on his revenge, but-

At that moment, she must've noticed his hesitation, because she turned away again.

Damn.

She abruptly stood, but made no move to walk away.

"Hey...your ship is here, isn't it?" She asked so unexpectedly, that he wasn't sure at first he'd heard her right.

"Well...yes, love. It is. But you can't see it. Cora enchanted it," he rose from the bench and pointed to a spot about two slips down, "it's just over there. I can take you to see her, if you like."

He couldn't believe he was doing this. This was not how he intended for this evening with her to go at all. And yet, he realized that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop himself.

"Ok..." she answered so softly, he almost had to strain to hear her. She walked over to him and threaded her arm through his, leaning her head against his shoulder.

It shocked him how docile she was being, but he supposed she was still in a bit of a state over what had happened earlier. He wasn't going to second-guess anything, though, and so he turned and led her slowly off into direction of the Jolly Roger.

Once they arrived at the pier, the brow laid out was the only evidence that something was even there at all.

He turned to her and whispered, "now...don't worry, love. Once you actually set foot on deck, you'll be able to see everything for yourself. Just stick close to me, and I'll guide you, yeah?"

"Yeah...I got it. Just don't drop me in the water, alright? Or else I might have to kill you," she responded with a little brass.

And there she was again. His little spitfire. "That's my girl," he said, with another one of his devilish grins.

He led her up the brow, up the forecastle, and down towards mid-ships.

"Wow...it really is something," she commented with a hint of awe in her voice.

"She, darling. Never it," he reminded her, casually. "Yes, indeed. No matter where my life has taken me, she's always been by my side. My most faithful companion," he fairly gushed.

"Now, then...how about we head below decks? There's not much at all to see up here when it's dark. And it tends to get rather chilly when strong drafts blow across the bow."

"You just want to get me into the Captain's Cabin, don't you?" She asked, giving him a playful shove.

"Perhaps..." he responded, giving her the dreaded Killian Jones smouldering gaze. "I've a very good bottle of rum stashed away down there with your name on it," he revealed, and then with some mirth, "the bed is also quite plush...but no pressure, of course."

"Ha, ha. Very funny," she groused, as he led her down the ladder into the bowels of the ship.

They arrived at his quarters, and he opened the doors for her, allowing her entrance.

The room was smaller than she'd expected, or maybe she'd just assumed that as a pirate captain, he'd always be living in some kind of opulence, constantly surrounded by his treasures. In reality, the room was quite spartan, except for the bed, obviously. Of course it was plush and grand. He had to ravish his wenches in comfort, after all.

The rest of the room was all dark wood that smelled faintly of spice, rum, and the sea.

Much like Killian.

There were a few shelves stacked with a myriad of books and knicknacks. Pillaged treasure, to be sure. His desk was on the opposite side, with a few maps and charts haphazardly spread over top, along with the requisite nautical regalia. A small wardrobe was tucked in the far corner, and though it had seemed at first glance to have once been a nice piece of furniture, a second look proved to her that it had seen better days.

It was not at all what she had expected...but then, she'd never really been on a pirate ship before. In the Captain's Cabin. So, what was she really expecting?

"Go on and sit down, love. I'll have that bottle for us in a tic, yeah?" She sat down in one of his desk chairs and watched with curiousity as he relit some of the candles in the wall sconces to give them better light. Her eyes followed every inch of him as he moved over to the wardrobe, opened it, and took his jacket off, placing it inside. In went his swordbelt, as well. He rooted around for a few minutes more and then poked his head out, holding up a slight dusty liquor bottle, its label worn with age.

"Ah. There we are," he smiled and locked the doors, turning towards her to sit down at the desk. He plopped himself in the chair and set the bottle down carefully on the table. "You know...this bottle is quite old, Emma. It wasn't easy for me to get my hands on it, and I was hoping to save it for a special occasion," he explained, using her given name for the first time, instead of her little pet names. With another smile, he added, "but you'll do."

The sound sent a shockwave of exilaration coursing through her body.

He pulled the cork off with his teeth, tossing it aside, and for a split-second, she had a flashback. To when he tended her hand on the beanstalk. She felt a rush of warmth permeate her insides, but at the same time, it left her feeling somewhat hollow.

She couldn't get the look in his eyes out of her mind, when she asked him about Milah. She had no reason to be intimidated by a dead woman, but some part of her-an increasingly large part of her-couldn't stand the idea of Killan looking at her with those eyes, but seeing someone else.

He took a drink and then offered the bottle to her. She accepted, quickly downing a shot. She wasn't going to keep going too much longer, though. Despite the day's emotional upheavals, she wasn't looking to get drunk.

They traded shots back and forth again, in companionable silence, until she just couldn't take it anymore and blurted out, "did you love her? Milah?"

He looked up at her in suprise, the light in his eyes dying a little, as his gaze turned downcast. "I told you before. It was long ago. Please just leave it."

But she couldn't. "I thought I was gonna spend the rest of my life with Neal. I loved him more than anything because he loved me when no one else ever had."

Why did she just say that?

Christ, her walls were crumbling hard and fast! It wasn't the alcohol talking, either. It was something much more basic than that.

Against her better judgement, she was beginning to let him in. To...trust him.

He seemed just as taken aback by her admission as she was. It took him a few moments of concerted effort to put together a response.

For once, just let go...

"The innocence of youth..." he trailed off wistfully, but then just as quickly, sat up straighter, turning serious eyes on her. "Yes...I did love Milah. I've been with a lot of women. Perk of being a pirate, I suppose. But it's all just folly, really. Milah, though...she was different. She was...real. But when I think back on it, I often wonder...was it really me she loved? Or simply the idea? The adventure?"

"Do you really believe that?" She asked, very much wanting to hear his answer.

Another drink, and this time his gaze was fixed on the soft glow radiating from the wall sconce closest him. "Sometimes."

The light danced, casting shadows across his silhouette. The flickering made his eyes glow so azure blue, they were like the seas during a storm.

Without warning, Emma felt her body move, almost of its own volition. She stood up slowly, and took the bottle of rum from his hand, setting it aside. Then, she stepped in front of him, nestling herself between his open legs. He visibly stiffened at first, unsure of what it was she wanted, but as she looked down into his eyes, Emma could see the wonder in them, the heat.

It wasn't wanton lust, as she would've assumed. No...it was something much more primal than that. Something she was intimately familiar with.

It was need.

Ever so slowly, she bent downward as he continued looking up at her, and gradually, the space between them diminished until she finally touched her lips to his, the kiss featherlight.

His lips were warm and soft. He tasted of aged rum and something uniquely Killian. At first, he kept his reactions to a minimum, running his hand lightly up one arm, while ghosting the other with the tip of his hook. He never broke eye contact with her.

She realized something right then. He was waiting for her. Whatever this was, it was going to have to be her move.

She kissed him again, this time with a bit more insistence, cupping his face with her hands. The friction of his stubble was definitely doing nice things for her.

He took that little move as her permission, freely given, to proceed on course.

He sat up much straighter now, pulling her roughly into him, so that his face was level with her torso. She slipped her leather jacket off and let it fall to the floor, forgotten. Then, he used the tip of his hook to slowly guide her tank top up over her head, and she completed the movement by pulling it off and tossing it aside.

For a long moment, he simply gazed at her angelic form with nothing short of reverance.

By the Gods...she's...

"Emma..." he whispered, his next words uttered like a prayer, "you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

Her heart fluttered, and without waiting for so much as a by-your-leave, she started slowly unbuttoning the front of his doublet. He watched her work with abject fascination. Once that irritating piece of clothing was out of the way, she moved on to his oh-so-cliche black pirate shirt, swiftly untucking it from his pants. Killian made short work of the prosthetic that held his hook, while she peeled the shirt off of him completely, leaving nothing but bare skin and taught muscle behind.

Emma lightly traced the scars she could see, wondering as to the story that each one held. He watched as she did so, very appreciative of the sensations that her fingertips were arousing within him.

Then, she reached behind her, unclasping her bra with one hand, freeing herself for him.

For a moment, he seemed awe-struck, but then his restraint seemed to finally give, and he just dove. He enveloped one of her breasts with his mouth, his tongue lavishing her nipple and milking it for all it was worth. The other, he teased with with his finger and thumb. She cried out blindly, not expecting the intense rush of sensations he was causing throughout her body. He pulled her down on top of him, allowing her to straddle him, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her, as hers wove around his neck. Within seconds, he had curled his fingers in her hair, and brought her lips down to his for a crushing kiss.

He teased her lips with his tongue, and she gave him entrance without a second thought. Their kisses were hard and brutal as their passion increased. She explored every inch of him, while he went on to rain a torrent of kisses down her jawline and onto her neck. He bit and sucked at her pulse point, hard, and and she let out a mewl of pleasure, bucking into him. He matched her thrusting with his own, trying to ignite more friction.

He was marking her as his, and she knew it. And she did not care.

In this moment, she was his. And he was hers. And that was all that mattered.

Suddenly, he didn't want to be in this bloody chair anymore. His heartbeat was pounding in his chest, and he could feel hers against him, riding the same wavelength.

"Bed. Now." He felt as though if couldn't have every inch of her inside of him, he was going to explode. Looking into her eyes now, he knew without doubt, she felt the same.

She moved off of him so that he could stand up, and before she had the chance to even take a step away, he crushed her to him for a soul-searing kiss. She moaned into his mouth, her knees almost buckling, and he grinned around hers. He picked her up, and in one swift motion, wrapped her legs around his torso.

He plundered her mouth again and again, as if it was the very air he needed to breath. And Gods help him...it was.

He walked her over until his legs hit the front of the bed, and then he unceremoniously dropped her onto it, not even pausing before furiously pulling off her boots and ripping her jeans off her legs.

For her part, she had latched onto his leather pants and was doing everything in her power to pull the ties and clasps free, short of grabbing his hook and slicing them off.

Oh, sweet Jesus...! 

There was an inferno raging inside her, and she knew if he didn't take her-right fucking now-she was going to spontaneously combust.

He seemed to read her mind, and stilled her ravenous hands long enough to free himself of the offending garment. Then he did something extremely cheeky. He used his hook to lift the little scrap of lacy fabric she was wearing away from her hip. He might not know what it was called exactly, but she looked very fetching in it, indeed. Unfortunately, it was going to have to go. Post haste.

She gave him a puzzled look, and then a slightly irritated grumble, as he ripped it away with a flourish.

In an instant, he was practically crawling up her body, settling down between her legs, pressing them flesh to searing flesh.

She didn't even wait. She immediately wrapped her legs around him, digging her fingernails into the taught flesh of his back for leverage. She raked them hard, eliciting a hiss from his lips, but the pleasure in that pain only served to spur him on further. Without a moment's hesitation, he guided himself into her with a guttural moan.

She had to bite her lip to keep from screaming out with the sensation.

He started out with a slow rhythm, trying to draw out her pleasure, but by the feverish look in her eyes, he could see this was not going to be kind of long, exquisite exploration. They would have time for that later.

And rest assured, my Swan, there will most definitely be a later.

He increased his speed, now setting a punishing pace. She didn't care. She matched his every move.

"Killian! Oh, God...Killian...please!" She yelled out, and hearing his name on her lips with such wanton abandon, caused something inside him to just...break.

He was lost to her. Completely and utterly lost. 

He could feel it the exact moment it happened, just as they hit their joined peak. Somehow, she had burrowed into every part of him. His heart. His life. Down to his very soul. She owned a piece of him that would be forever hers, and when he looked into her eyes, he knew.

He just knew. 

He owned a piece of her, too.

She cried out, and he let out a fierce, animalistic growl into her shoulder as they rode the crescendo.

Tears were running down her cheeks, her emotions were so high. They were both panting with the exertion, a sheen of sweat glistening off their joined skin. He crushed his mouth to hers once more, and before he realized what he was doing, he breathed out,

"I love you, Emma...so much. Gods help me, I love you..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok...sorry if this chapter was a bit long for you guys, but I had to condense a lot of stuff into one go so that I would be able to move to the major portion of this story, which is the battle, going into the city, etc. I'm keeping this T because I feel like my style is less graphic than what would be considered an M rating. I wanted to finish off with a scene b/w Cora and Regina, but its just too damn late for me to keep going any further. Don't forget to review! Enjoy!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Copyrights still apply. Before anyone sends a mammoth-sized wall of flame my way, just a word of warning: this chapter is going to get violent. Characters will be injured in various ways. But no, there will be no character death in this story, so just...whoo-sah. Ok, peoples...it's about to get real.

The time has come.

Cora knew now that she had spent more than enough time pruning and planning. She had amassed all the knowlege she would need to launch an effective strike. She knew exactly which pieces to move on her human chessboard in order to force Storybrooke into check and mate.

Every piece except one.

Regina.

Cora had observed her daughter with a very keen eye in the days since she'd arrived in this 'realm without magic', and one thing, she believed, was for certain: her errant child most definitely needed an attitude adjustment.

She simply did not understand how Regina could have forgotten herself so completely, especially now that there was the advantage of magic being introduced to this world. She had every opportunity to reasert control, to remind the pathetic rabble of this town that the Queen was still, very much, in.

Unfortunately, it seemed as though her daughter had shifted her priorities elsewhere.

It was more than obvious that Regina had put the welfare and happiness of that insufferable little whelp above all else.

Once again, she had let her heart lead her. Once again, she had let love cloud her judgement.

It was infuriating.

She'd come all this way, through an untold number of worlds...and for what? To find that the daughter she'd sacrificed everything for had squandered the power she'd been given and thrown it away like so much garbage?

If Cora still had a heart, she would've felt as though it had just been crushed. But that was why she'd had it removed so very long ago. So that it would never be touched by such...emotion.

This was a betrayal of the worst kind. An absolute slap in the face.

No...Regina wasn't going to be convinced. Cora knew that now. She might not give a damn what the rest of the town thought of her, but the boy...his opinion was the only thing that mattered. She would not do anything to tarnish that, even for her own mother.

And here, Cora had thought that the savior-the Swan girl-was the head of her beast of burden. The glue that united them.

Cut her down, and they'd all topple like a piteous house of cards.

How wrong she was.

It was the boy.

A beast can reform a severed limb, but it only had one heart.

That's what Henry was.

The heart.

The touchstone.

The one thing that had united good and evil. And all for the love of a child...

Cora now knew what she had to do. She'd destroyed Regina once before in order to save her from herself.

It appeared she was going to have to do it again.

Henry Mills was going to die.

Making her way towards Regina's house, Cora readied herself. She knew that her daughter would not go down without a fight. Still, as much as she despised what her daughter had become, Cora had no desire to kill her. At least, not unless it was absolutely necessary. However, Regina was going to have to be taken out of play. That much was for certain. Her time was far too valuable to be hampered by Regina's desperate attempts at a backlash.

Coming up to the house, Cora swiftly walked up the front porch steps, raised her hands outwards, called forth her magic...and promptly blew the front door off its hinges. Without a second's hesitation, she sauntered in as if she owned the place.

Stopping in the middle of the foyer, she called out with pure wickedness in her voice, "Regina, darling! Mummy's home!"

Just then, Regina came running in from the kitchen like a bat out of hell. When mother and daughter finally laid eyes on each other, Regina stood frozen, in a state of abject shock. Her face contorted into mixture of fear and overwhelming disbelief.

"Mother?! But...how?!"

In reality, though, Regina already had her answer. She'd suspected this was coming. Had warned Gold as much.

"Oh, sweetheart...surely you didn't think a little ol' mirror was going to keep me away, did you?" Cora answered, sickly sweet. "You should know me better than that."

"Mom!? What's going on?! What's happening?!" Henry had chosen that moment to come flying out of his room and barreling down the staircase, but he stopped midway down as realization began to sink in.

Both women simultaneously turned their heads to look up at him, but it was Regina who reacted first, terrified for her son's life.

"No! Henry, don't! Get out of here! Now!" She yelled to him, calling forth her own magic to try and blast Cora back. But it wasn't enough. Her mother merely absorbed the force and threw it back at her, sending Regina hurtling into the parlor.

Cora turned towards Henry, who was standing at the foot of the stairs, frozen in fear. She pierced him with a glare that was ice cold, and quipped, "well, well...if it isn't the little one who's been stealing mommy's thunder? Children these days..."

Suddenly, there was a noise from further inside the house, and out of the corner of his eye, Henry recognized that it was Regina, trying to quiety shuffle back in the room behind Cora, while her back was turned. There was a stream of blood dripping from a gash on her forehead, and she was holding her right arm to her chest tightly, as if it might've been dislocated. Her left hand was pulsing with purple energy, and the look in her eyes was nothing short of furious.

"Mother! Take another step near my son, and I swear to God, I will kill you!" She roared, flinging her hand out to release her power.

But Cora was quicker. "Not this time, darling. Not ever again."

She put her hand up, creating some kind of vise-like grip around Regina's wrist to keep her from utilizing it.

Regina's heart sunk. With both arms immobilized, she had absolutely no way of accessing her magic. So, she followed the only recourse left to her.

She screamed.

"HENRY!" For a split second, terror-filled eyes locked onto eachother. "RUN!"

Henry didn't even stop to think. He just turned and bolted up the staircase as fast as his legs could carry him. He wasn't sure where he was gonna go, but knew he had to as least try and get to a phone. Call Emma. Or his grandparents. Call somebody...

The house didn't have a back door, but if he could make it to his bedroom window and crawl outside, he might be able to shimmy down the drain pipe. He'd done stuff like that before, to sneak away when Regina wouldn't let him see Emma.

But Cora was not one to be deterred. While one hand was holding Regina in place, she used her other one to send her magic out and forcefully lift Henry off his feet, propelling him into the nearest wall. Within seconds, wooden beams burst forth from the sheetrock and wrapped around his body, paralyzing his movement and effectively trapping him.

He jerked and bucked wildly, in an attempt to free himself. But it was of no use. He was at Cora's mercy now.

"NO!" Regina screamed, trying everything in her power to get loose. But Cora's strength was unyielding.

Cora walked calmly up to her daughter and said, her tone dripping with malice, "I told you once before, dear daughter...love is weakness. Such a pity it had to come to this, but you'll thank me...in the end."

And with that, she pursed her lips into an 'O' shape and blew a fine, sparkling mist straight into Regina's face.

She tried not to inhale, but it was too late. As soon as she tried to cough the vapor away, it was already doing it's job. Regina's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she sank to the ground like a stone.

Cora then glided up the stairs and approached the wall where Henry was pinned. They locked gazes for a silent moment, and even though she knew the boy was afraid, his eyes showed nothing but bitter contempt.

He was, without doubt, Regina's son.

"Goodnight, sweet prince..." she drawled, giving him the same treatment as she had Regina. He was unconscious within seconds. Cora then released him from his bonds and gathered him up into her arms as he dropped.

And in a swirl of purple smoke, they disappeared.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Jolly Roger sat quietly in its slip, bobbing ever-so-slightly with the current's ebb and flow. Warm rays of sunlight shone down upon the ship, burning off the last dregs of early morning fog, leaving the vessel with a hauntingly ethereal quality, were anyone able to actually see it.

Below decks, the passageways were silent, save for the ever-present creaking and rocking. In the Captain's Cabin, the candles had burned down low, casting the room into a miasma of soft light and shadow.

Clothing was scattered carelessly about the floor, a testament to the previous evening's...activities. Two figures lay huddled together in the bed, their bodies a massive tangle of limbs and sheets. Killian was laid on his back, his arms wrapped securely around Emma as she lay peacefully, curled into his side, her head pillowed on his chest. Her arm was locked snuggly around his torso, as if she was determined to hold onto him, even in sleep. No sound could be heard but the steady rhythm of their breathing as they slumbered on.

Killian, for his part, had been restless most of the night. In fact, he'd managed to fall asleep only a few scant hours before, just as the burden of exhaustion became too much to bear. He just couldn't seem to stop the torrent of thoughts his mind was being bombarded with. He was sure that his passion-filled admission would've sent her running, knowing what loving someone had done to her in the past, but instead, Emma suprised him. She said nothing, but rather, gave him the sweetest, most loving kiss he'd ever had. It was, as if, she was trying to convey, without words, that she understood.

And then she initiated round two. The woman was utterly insaciable.

It was the most intense sexual experience of his life.

But when he finally came down from the rush and was able to actually sit back and relax-to think for a moment-he found himself plagued with a dozen different emotions all at once. Guilt that he had somehow betrayed Milah's memory; frustration that he had let this one woman distract him so completely from his mission; amazement that, even if she hadn't said it, she felt something for him, too.

Emma Swan had come to mean so much to him in so short a time, that he'd begun to wonder if, in her, he might have found something more important to him than his revenge. Could he set his grudges aside? Look at Rumplestiltskin now and simply just...walk away? He wasn't sure. He could still remember the exact moment in his mind, when the beast crushed her heart to dust, and she collapsed in his arms, as a last strangled 'I love you' died on her lips. There was no way he could just let that go. Milah's spirit was crying out for justice. No matter how much he may...love Emma, and he absolutely could not deny that he did, he had sworn an end to his Crocodile.

And an end there would be.

Only then would he be able to close this chapter in his long life and start a new story with Emma. Only then would he know peace.

They were still asleep when, out of nowhere, the cabin door opened with a defined whoosh, and Smee came stumbling in. He was barely across the threshold, when he was brought up short by the sight before him.

Killian, who was a light sleeper by nature, awoke immediately at the foreign sound. He sat up carefully, trying his best not to disturb Emma, and blindly reached to the floor with his good hand, grabbing for his hook. He brought the weapon up, ready to launch it at the unknown intruder, but then realized after a few seconds of letting his eyesight adjust, that there was no danger.

Sodding wanker! Didn't anyone ever teach him how to knock?!

Killian sent Smee a withering glare and then turned to put the hook under his pillow. At the same time, he did as much as possible to shield Emma's body and protect her modesty. He could see the cur's eyes wandering, even only sligtly, but clearly enjoying the view.

"What is it?!" Killian whispered through gritted teeth.

"Apologies, Cap'n! Didn't mean to disturb, but...it's just that...I've got important information, sir!" Smee whispered back, sounding very sure of himself.

He can't be serious...

Killian reached down for his leather pants and put them on in exasperation, not even bothering to do up the ties and straps. This movement caused Emma to stir slightly, and he leaned over, using the soothing sound of his voice to lull her back to sleep. He then got up off the bed, adjusted her covers, and softly padded over to the cabin door. His mood had soured considerably, and if Smee's supposed revelation didn't involve the words 'Rumplestiltskin' and 'dead' in the same sentence, the git was going to be sorry.

Killian poked his head out the door, along with his hooked arm, which he used to grab Smee by the buttonhole of his jacket and thrust him forward.

"What in the hell could be so bloody important that you couldn't even bother to use common courtesy?!" He spat, still trying to keep his voice down.

"I'm sorry, sir! But this is somethin' you're gonna wanna hear. About killin' the Crocodile, Cap'n. It's what we've been waiting for!" Smee explained, with no shortage of twisted glee.

Killian looked back at Emma's sleeping form for a moment, as if trying to force himself to come to a final decision. Then he turned back to Smee and said, "Hmm...very well, then. Now take your wretched arse up on deck, and I'll met you up there in five minutes." As Smee nodded and made to leave, Killian added, "and bloody well be quiet!"

Killian finished dressing in record time, but decided to carry his boots out with him so that Emma would not be awoken by the noise of him lugging about. Once he made it back up onto the main deck, he fairly shouted to Smee, who was sitting patiently on one of the bits.

"Oi! Now, what is this all about then, eh? And it better be worth my time, you nonce!"

"It is! I swear!" Smee assured him, and then continued, "listen...someone came to see me this mornin'. Said he was wantin' to talk to ya. I told him it wasn't gonna happen without goin' through me first. Told him I needed to know what his story was cause you ain't gonna come out for just anybody, after all. He tells me that his name is George. Guess he used ta be some big, fat king or some such. I don't really know for sure. Then he says that you and he's got the same enemy, and he's got somethin' that could help you. Not sure what it was. He wouldn't say too much, just that it was guaranteed to get the job done."

Killian's eyes darkened. If this...George spoke the truth, this could be the answer he'd spent three hundred years searching for. Granted, he only had the man's word to go on, but...he'd worked with less before. Even if this lead took him to a dead end, he had to at least try.

"Alright, then. How am I to contact him?" he asked, arms crossed, and looking as if his patience was being very tried.

Smee handed him a small card, on which was written an address and a time. Judging by that and the position of the sun, Killian estimated he only had about an hour to prepare.

"Fine...and...well done, Smee. Good form," he complemented, but somehow it didn't seem like very much of one. "And Smee," Killian stopped him once again from leaving and beckoned him over with a finger. Before the man could blink, Killian's hand shot out and wrapped itself around his first mate's throat. He yanked the man forward so that they were almost nose to nose, and with a dangerous calm, warned, "if you ever look at that woman with such lecherousness again, I will rip your eyes from their sockets and feed them to the gulls. Am I understood?"

"Y-yes sir! I'm sorry! I never meant no harm, Cap'n!" Smee croaked.

"No...you never do. Now get off my ship!" He bellowed, and Smee took off like a shot.

Killian wasted no time in heading back down to his cabin. He didn't want Emma to awaken without him there and make the assumption that he'd disappeared on her as though she were some common bangtail. Unfortunately, by the time he reentered the room, he was disheartened to find that she was already awake and getting dressed.

"Emma...?" he said gently, walking over and sitting down next to her on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry to have woken you, love. It wasn't my intention."

"Hmm?" She said, her attention focused on getting her denim-clad legs into her boots. "Oh...no...it's alright. I have to get going anyways. Mary-Margaret and David are probably wondering what happened to me, and I really need to talk to Henry...I mean, to make sure he knows that nothing's wrong."

"Well..." he responded, his voice gaining that low and sultry tone he seemed to reserve only for her. He ran his fingers slowly through her hair and then softly down her back. He brought his lips close to her ear and whispered, "there's no need to be in such a rush, darling..."

She shivered as his breath ghosted over her neck, and then closed her eyes, allowing his heady scent to overwhelm her senses. As if on autopilot, she tilted her neck to offer him better access, and he did not hesitate. He rained a hot trail of nips and kisses down her neck to her shoulder, his hand slowly cascading down her arm and stopping just at the underside of her breast. She moaned with pleasure as he massaged her nipple through her tank top between thumb and forefinger.

He knew if they weren't careful, they'd soon be heading towards round three. Not that he minded in the least...

Once his hand started dipping lower however, eventually reaching the apex of her thighs, Emma's demeanor visibly changed. She stiffened in his arms and put her hand over his in an effort to move it away. Then, she adjusted herself and sat up straight, forcing Killian to disengage himself from her or risk falling off the bed.

"Emma...please don't do this..." he sighed, knowing full well what was coming. He just didn't expect it to hurt so damn much.

"Killian, I...I'm sorry. I...I can't..." she trailed off, and it was like deja-vu in the worst way possible.

I can't do this...

It was the beanstalk all over again.

She stood up from the bed quickly and made her way over to the desk to grab her leather jacket.

She went to the door, but only managed to open it a crack, when Killian's hand appeared out of nowhere and slammed it shut. He was not going to let her do this to him again-run away and leave him hanging-because she was too afraid to believe someone could actually love her.

Not this time.

"Emma! I'm not him..." he intoned, angry but sincere. "You can't spend your entire life running away..."

She rounded on him so quickly, he was forced to back up or she'd be almost on top of him.

"Says the pirate who spent three hundred years running! You have absolutely no room to talk!" She fumed.

"You think I don't know that?! I never wanted this! Any of it! My soul has become so black, that sometimes I don't even know who I am anymore! But you know something? In all these centuries, the only time I've ever been able to feel anything...to remember the man I once was...is when I'm with you!" He roared back, his face inches from hers.

They stood, staring into eachother, an unnatural silence permeating the room, except for the sound of their ragged breathing. All of a sudden, without warning, Emma grabbed fistfulls of his shirt with both hands and thrust him toward her, crushing his lips with her own. KIllian's reaction was immediate; he grabbed her around the waist and roughly walked her backwards, slamming her into the door.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him for all she was worth, because honestly, she wasn't sure if they would ever be this way with eachother again.

When they finally had to come up for air, he rested his forehead on her shoulder and held her so tightly in his arms, it was as though he wanted her to crawl inside of him and never leave.

"Emma...I won't let you walk away from me again. I can't..." he breathed into her shoulder. "Last night...I meant every word. You know I did..."

And she did. When she looked into his eyes as he said the words, it was probably the most honest he'd been his entire life.

She brought his head up until their eyes met and cupped his face in her hands. "I know...I just..." she tailed off with a mournful sigh. How was she to explain this so that she could make him understand? "I want to try. I swear, I do. It's just...I've got parts of my life-my past-that I need to close first. I can't give anyone, not even you, my whole heart until that's done. If anyone can understand that, it should be you, right? You didn't come here for me, remember? Your revenge is your whole life. I wish that wasn't true, but it is. I don't want us to wind up at odds, but that's what's gonna happen if we don't make things right with ourselves first. Otherwise, we'll push and pull eachother until we-"

"Until we break." He cut her off, because she was right.

He was running his fingertips slowly down her cheeks when, out of the blue, her cell phone went off. And just like that, the moment was broken.

His shoulders slumped a little, and his face fell as she quickly maneuvered herself away from him to take the call.

/"Hello? Oh...Mary-Margaret."/ This was the last thing she needed right now. /"Umm...I'm fine. Thanks. Yeah, I just needed some time to myself, that's all. No...I don't want to deal with either of them right now. I know...I'll have to eventually. And I will. Just not right at this moment...wait...what? Henry isn't in school today? Did Regina call him out? No?"/ All of a sudden, the hairs on the back of Emma's neck started to stand up.

Something wasn't right. Killian noticed her worry immediately, but when he made to take her free hand in his own, she waved him off.

/"You don't think something happened, do you? Cora? I don't know..."/ As she said this, she leveled a heated gaze right at Killian. He at least had the decency to look appropriately guilt-ridden. /"It's possible. Look...call David and tell him to meet me at Regina's, alright? And tell him to bring Mulan's sword. No! You stay at the school in case Henry shows up. I don't need the whole town going into mass hysterics."/

With that, Emma quickly hung up and turned back to Killian. She was beyond livid.

"You brought her here-"

But he interjected before she could even finish the thought, his hand and hook held up in surrender, "Emma...on my life, I swear I had nothing to do with her plans!She was just my way through, nothing more! I had no idea what she was going to do! Please...I would never do anything to hurt your lad! You have to believe, I...I could never cause you that kind of pain!" He implored, hoping against hope she would see that he spoke the truth.

"I...I believe you," she relented a fraction, yet it made her no less resolute. "But know this: if anything happens to my son, I will deliver you to Gold myself."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As soon as they entered Regina's house, their worst suspicions were confirmed.

Cora was in Storybrooke. And she had taken Henry.

David immediately went to check on Regina's condition, gathering her unconscious body into his arms and placing her carefully on a nearby couch. At the same time, Emma took out her phone and started calling in reinforcements. She knew exactly what Cora was capable of, and if she was going to have any chance of getting Henry back-alive-she was going to need as much help as she could get. She contacted the dwarves, the fairies, Granny and Ruby-anyone who had some sort of magical ability or skill with a sword. She then rang Mary-Margaret to bring her up to speed and have her send all the children home. If the situation was about to turn ugly, Emma did not want innocent people getting caught in the crossfire.

Mary-Margaret agreed and promised she'd be on her way as soon as possible.

At this point, she only had one phone call left to make, and it was this one that would prove to be the most difficult. She had to ask for help from the most dangerous and unpredictable person she knew: Gold. Initially, she was extremely hesitant to bring him in on any of this-the last thing she needed was to owe that man another favor-but she had to admit, Rumplestiltskin was most powerful and skilled wielder of magic she had at her disposal. She might not like him-definitely didn't trust him-but at the moment, he was the best advantage she had.

The problem was, she was unsure how Hook and Gold would react to seeing one another. If they wound up having some sort of confrontation, well...she simply had neither the time nor the inclination to play referee.

Her son's life was on the line, and that had to come first. Rivalries be damned.

Coming to a decision, Emma dialed Gold and did her best to explain the situation. She wisely chose to refrain from metioning Killian during the conversation because she couldn't take the chance that Gold would become uncooperative due to the pirate's presence. He was suprisingly agreeable, provided that Emma give him full autonomy to use whatever means necessary to take Cora out.

Though Emma knew that giving into his demands was begging for trouble, the fact was, she was desperate.

If using Gold was the best chance she had at saving Henry's life, then she really had no choice.

She instructed Gold to meet her at the sheriff's office, where the rest of her defacto 'army' would be awaiting her arrival. She figured it was as good a place as any to set up a base of operations. David had just rejoined her in the foyer when she disconnected the call.

"Despite her injuries, Regina's stable, for now," he explained. "I called an ambulance to come and bring her to the hospital. You should know, though...I found this," and he held up his fingers that were coated in a fine, sparkling dust, "on her face. I think it's-"

"Sleeping powder. I know...I've seen it before," Emma sighed, wearily. "Well, at least she's alright. I just wish I had an idea where Cora might've taken him. Some place to start..."

"Remember...Cora's not familliar with this realm. Whatever she's doing, you can be sure sure she'll press every available advantage she's got," Killian informed her, having thus far kept mostly to himself.

"Fair point," David agreed, but then realized he was talking to a complete stranger. "And who the hell are you exactly?"

"Killian Jones," he replied with a two-fingered salute and his usual swagger, "but you can call me-"

"Hook," David finished for him. "Yeah...my wife decribed you in intimate detail when she told me about what happened in the Enchanted Forest." David was not at all pleased to notice that Emma and the pirate had come to the house together.

"Ah...so nice to finally meet Emma's father in the flesh! She's told me absolutely...nothing about you, I'm afraid. More's the pity..." Killian responded, his tone laced with obvious sarcasm.

David was not amused. Giving Killian what could've amounted to a death glare, he turned to Emma and asked, "is there a reason for him to be here?"

"David...he knows Cora better than any of us, except maybe Mary-Margaret and Regina. At this point, I can't afford to turn away an offer of help, no matter who it comes from. Henry's life depends on it!" she intoned, hoping he'd understand.

"If it wasn't for him, Cora wouldn't even be here in the first place, and Henry would still be safe!" David threw back, pointing right at Killian, unappeased.

"Look...we do not have the time to stand here and argue about this! He's here because he doesn't want to see Henry get hurt anymore than we do! You don't want to trust him, that's fine. Then trust me," she implored.

Apparently, Emma's heartfelt plea seemed to work enough to cause David to finally back down. He glanced between his daughter and the pirate, stating, "fine. But he's your responsibility. Now, let's go. We don't have any time to waste!"

Just as they exited the house, Mary-Margaret pulled up in her own car. She had her bow and sword ready for bear. David motioned for her to hop into his truck, and they all burned rubber for town. Along the way, Emma divulged to Killian the phone call she made to Gold. His eyes filled with a feral kind of bloodlust at the thought of his Crocodile being so close, but she put her foot down that, in no uncertain terms, was he to touch the man. If he so much as twitched in Gold's general direction, she'd toss him in jail and throw away the key. Grudgingly, he aquiesced.

By the time they reached the sheriff's office, there was a mass of people already inside, impatiently awaiting their arrival.

The four marched inside and were met by a barage of questions and anxious only person that Emma was paying any attention to, though, was Neal. He and August were still in the jail cell, recuperating from Emma's onslaught. August seemed worn out and completely stressed. Neal appeared utterly clueless, but relieved to see her, nonetheless.

A sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that she wasn't going to be able to get out of telling Neal the truth about this. Neal wasn't any kind of father- whatsoever-but Henry was still his son. He had a right to know what was going on. She beckoned him over, and he along with August, shuffled out to where she was standing.

She cast a guarded look over at Killian, but he seemed to be making good on his promise. He was over by the front door, leaning casually against the frame, but Emma could tell that his gaze was locked firmly on the pawnshop owner, who himself, had decided to maintain a healthy distance the instant they spotted eachother.

Turning back to Neal, she got straight to the point, "Ok. Listen up. First of all, don't ask me to apologize for what I did to you yesterday. Because I'm not going to. Secondly...you have a son. He's ten years old, and his name is Henry."

Neal looked floored. "Wait...what? I have a kid?! Jesus...Emma, if I had known, I swear to God, I never would've-"

She put a hand up to stop him. She didn't have time for him to feel guilty. "Neal, none of that is important right now. What is, is the fact that an evil witch named Cora has him, and she's gonna kill him if we don't find a way to stop her. Are you with me so far?"

"Yeah...I think so. Evil bitch wants to kill my kid. Got it, but...Christ, this is nuts!" He replied, beside himself.

"No...she's a witch. The real thing. A sorceress, with magic and everything. Think Snow White's stepmother...on crack," Emma clarified, aggravation starting to set in.

"Holy shit..." he choked out, at a loss for words.

"Yeah. Now, you listen to me, and you listen good. Both of you," she looked to August then, to make sure he was paying attention. "I don't know how this is all gonna go down in the end. We may not make it out of this, so...I need you to promise me, Neal," she grasped his shoulders hard to make sure he really was hearing her, "promise me that if something horrible happens, you'll take Henry, and you'll get him the hell out of here. I don't care how much he protests. This is your one chance to make good, understand? You. Keep. Him. Safe."

Neal nodded silently and dropped heavily into a nearby chair.

Without further comment, Emma turned to the group at hand, that David was presently trying to bring to some semblance of organization. He was having a difficult time of it because everyone seemed to have one personal opinion or another that they felt needed to be heard.

"ALRIGHT EVERYONE! LISTEN UP!" She fairly shouted, banging her hand down on the desk for emphasis. That seemed to do the trick, as silence blanketed the room, and all eyes fell on her.

"Thank you. Now...we all know what Cora is capable of. That makes magic our primary defense. But...we also know that those powers are unpredicatable here, maybe even for her. We can't forget that, here in Storybrooke, we have the advantage. She's knows very little about this realm, which means, she'll likely go to familliar ground," she explained, as murmurs of agreement began to spread through the crowd.

"The forest," Mary-Margaret said, matter-of-factly. "It's large and dense...the one place that she can easily hide."

"That's what I was thinking, too. She won't come into town. It's too much out of her comfort zone," Emma replied, leaning down to dig through her desk drawers until she managed to pull out a map and slap it down on top.

"Now, I figure, if we set out in groups and each take a good-sized section, then we should be able to..." and her voice trailed off into the din as everyone clamored around her to better hear the plan.

While Emma's attention was diverted with the townspeople, Killian had spied a lone figure across the street, huddled in the alleyway and doing his best to remain unseen. The man gave him a curt wave, as if trying to beckon him over. Suddenly, Killian realized that this must be the mysterious George that he was supposed to meet. He'd been so wrapped up with Emma and her son, that he'd almost completely forgotten about it. Giving one last look around to make sure that no one would notice his absence, he stealthily dipped out and made his way to his appointment.

The old man saw him coming and ducked back behind the building, Killian following closely behind. Once they were out of sight of any onlookers, the man stopped and pulled something out of his pocket. Killian was instantly wary, and his hand dropping to settle on the hilt of his cutlass on instinct.

"So...you would be George, then?" He asked. The man nodded curtly.

"I've been told you have something to tell me about my Crocodile? Well, go on then...let's have it," he asked, with no small amount of force. He wanted to get this over with before Emma noticed he was missing and there were questions he wasn't able to answer.

"This," George held the object out, but still out of range of Killian's grasp, "it's a weapon that can put the Dark One down for good." He then unwrapped the prize and allowed the pirate to have a closer look. The blade was serpentine shaped and quite long for a dagger. It was old, obviously, but untarnished. On one side the balde was embossed with the name, Rumplestiltskin.

"This blade is the only thing in existence that can kill the Dark One. Whoever wields it has absolute power over him, and he will be forced to sumbit to their bidding," he continued his explanation, as Killian practically salivated at the thought. "Control him first...then destroy him."

With that, he thrust the dagger into the pirate's hand and made to take off, but Hook called out to him before he could get away, "wait! How did you know about me? About this?"

"Let's just say, Cora has at least one friend she can still count on." And then, he was gone.

Killian stared at the weapon for a long moment, wondering at his luck and offering up a prayer to the Gods that this miracle was real. He then tucked the blade into the inside pocket of his long leather jacket and quickly made his way back to the sheriff's office. As he came up to the door, he could see that numerous people were already beginning to filter out and hop into vehicles, assuredly heading out to their respective search areas. Killian caught up with Emma and her parents just as they were about to leave.

"Hey...I was wondering where you'd gone off to. I didn't see you in the crowd after a while," Emma asked him, unease in her tone.

"Not to worry, darling. I just stepped out for a spot of fresh air, is all. Too much of a crowd in there for my liking...and the company wasn't very pleasant," he replied, referring to Gold. It was the most plausible excuse he could give her that she would believe, though he hated having to lie to her at all. But he couldn't tell her the truth. She'd never let him do what needed to be done.

"Alright. I suppose I should be glad the two of you managed to refrain from killing eachother," she said, with an exasperated huff, but he knew there was no real malice behind it. She then motioned for David to bring her the sword he was carrying. He walked it over and placed it, hilt first, in her hands.

He face had a 'I still don't like this' look, but at the defiant gleam in her eyes, he said nothing.

"Killian...this is Mulan's sword. My mother kept it when we went through the portal," she told him.

"Yes...I recognize it. The warrior woman was quite good with it, as I recall."

"It's the most powerful blade in all the realms...and it can deflect Cora's magic," she continued without really hearing him, "and I want you to use it." At this, his gaze snapped to hers, completely taken aback by the offer. He was going to say something to the contrary, but she pushed onward, "no...don't. Your cutlass is a good weapon, but nowhere near good enough. We each have capable weapons of our own, so...it's only fair that you should have one, too."

Holding the sword in his hand with true reverance, he replied, "I'd be honored, lass. Thank you."

Within minutes, they were packed into their respective cars and headed over to the site they'd chosen to start their search. Emma was unsuprised to notice that Gold's car was following them closely, but discreetly. He obviously wanted a front row seat for this throw down, and believed that she was just the person to ensure that happening. Right as they were nearing a long stretch of backroad that would take them into the forest proper, Emma was suddenly beset with the strangest feeling. Call it sixth sense; call it intuition, but the sensation seemed only to increase in intensity the further away they went from the main road.

She remembered watching some doumentary or other about how mothers could sometimes sense when their children were in grave danger. Usually it meant that parent and child had a very strong bond, but...could she really say she had that with Henry? She wasn't sure, but her gut had never steered her wrong before. She absolutely knew she had to follow it.

Abruptly, she slammed on the brakes and threw the car into reverse. David had to stop behind her so quickly, he came within a hair's breadth of smashing into her car. She turned around and headed back in the direction of the main road, her parents hastily trying to catch up. Within seconds, her cell phone started to chirp, and she answered it gruffly, knowing it was probably Mary-Margaret.

/"Hey...yeah, I know! I'm sorry! I just had this strangest feeling that we were going the wrong way. No, I can't explain it...but you come from a fairytale realm. Are you really going to question this? I'm not entirely sure...just keep following, alright?"/

Emma continued to drive, with Killian throwing her puzzled looks every so often. She ignored him and continued to focus on her task.

Eventually, a very familliar sight came into view just up ahead: the Storybrooke welcome sign and the spray painted boundary line. She didn't really understand what had led her to this spot, but she just knew, without doubt, that this was where she needed to be.

After the rest of the party managed to catch up, everyone parked a few feet from the welcome sign and got out of their cars.

David was the first to comment, confused. "Emma...why here? Are you sure?"

"I don't know why, but I just..." she paused for a moment, running a hand through her hair in frustration, "...this is where she'll be. I'm certain of it."

"It makes sense, dearie," Gold's eerily accented voice floated up, seemingly from out of thin air. Everyone turned at once in the direction the sound came from, and eventually he could be seen coming out of the woodwork, the tip of his cane clicking faintly against the concrete. The tensed group visibly relaxed, all save for Killian, who turned his back swiftly and went to lean against the side of Emma's car, facing away from the odious creature.

Gold pretended not to take notice, but a smirk could clearly be seen at the corner of his mouth.

"What do you mean?" Emma asked pointedly, refusing to give into his little mind games.

"I mean...that this is the spot I would've chosen, if I was her. And let's not forget, I did teach her everything she knows..." he admitted, with a slightly crazed cackle.

"Ok, but...why here? Why this place?" Emma kept on, a cold dread starting to settle into the pit of her stomach.

"The boundary, dearie," he revealed, pointing to the line with his cane. "It's her best defense. None of us can step beyond it without risking losing our memories, except for someone untouched by the curse. Someone...like her. And like Henry. She's going to make it impossible for you to get to him without losing everything you hold dear as a result. And don't think she won't have a back-up plan in place. Cora was always one to have all of her bases covered."

It was actually quite brilliant, and if Gold didn't detest the shrew so much, he'd almost be impressed. Almost.

Before he could say anything else on the matter, however, there was a loud crackle of energy in the air and then a defined pop, as large plumes of purple smoke appeared around them from all sides. When it evaporated, they were greeted with a gut-wrenching sight: Cora was standing, mere inches from the boundary, holding a very sluggish-looking Henry with an arm at his back. By the sheen on his face, it looked as though he was still partially under the effects of the sleeping powder.

Just enough to keep him docile, of course.

"Why, hello everyone! I do hope you didn't mind my borrowing young Henry for a little while? It's been so very long since I've had the company of family, and well...I thought we could use a little...visit," she drawled, icily.

"Let him go, Cora! We both know he's not what you're after," Emma responded with every ounce of conviction she could muster.

"On the contrary, my dear...the child is very much what I'm after," she corrected, dripping maliciousness.

Just then, the sound of an arrow splitting the air caused enough of a distraction, that those with swords drawn were able to take a few steps closer. Unfortunately, Cora was skilled enough to see it coming, and simply raised her hand outward, her magic batting away the offending object like a fly.

"Snow...haven't we been through this before? You know this is pointless..." she trailed off with a twisted smile on her face, just as Charming made a lunge for her.

Again, she brought up her hand, trapping him in some kind of magical energy field. "Ah, ah, ah. You've got to be more careful, James. You wouldn't want to make a mistake and risk," and with this she made her hand into a fist and roughly yanked him forward a few feet, putting him dangerously close to the boundary, "crossing over, now would you?"

He tried to plant his feet to keep from sliding, but it was no use. Her magic, even in this world, was too strong.

She then sent him hurtling backwards, and he came to rest with a resounding thud a good twenty feet down the road.

"DAVID!" Snow screamed, fearing she may have killed him. Looking behind her, though, she could see slight movement coming from him, so at least she could be sure he was alive.

Emma didn't even hesitate. She came at Cora with everything she had, but this time, the witch actually caught the blade in the palm of her hand. In. Her. Hand. There was no slice; no cut. There wasn't even any blood. She just held it there resolutely, between herself and Emma. The two women were almost face to face when Cora calmly taunted, "is this really what you want? Your son's blood on your hands? I would think long and hard on your next move, my dear. Trust me..."

Emma stared her down, hard, determined to make some impact, but Cora was immovable. A minute that felt like an hour ticked by, and then the sword Emma held simply...vanished. She reeled backwards a bit, nearly losing her footing, due to the fact the they were no longer gripping it together.

Emma was at a loss as to what else to do, when out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Killian trying to sneak up out of the field of Cora's peripheral vision. She kept her features schooled so as not to alert the woman to his presence. At this point, Killian was at a decent enough angle to her, that he was the only one to have a view from not only the front, but also behind.

What he saw left him utterly horrifed.

Cora's hand was not resting at Henry's back, as everyone had assumed. Her fist was impaled in it. And her hand, more than likely wrapped around his heart, was probably the only thing keeping the poor child standing.

Fortunately, Rumplestiltskin knew the stance all too well from centuries worth of experience. Without so much as a word, he stepped forward and sent a surge of magic outward, straight at Henry. He now had the boy firmly in his magical grip. The only thing left to do was push Cora out.

"Here's a thought, dearie. Are you sure this is really what you want?"

And that was when Killian knew he had his opening. "Emma!" He yelled to her, and she immediately locked eyes with him. "Her hand! It's through his back! She's got his heart!"

No... Please, God, no...

For one split second, Emma could feel her own heart drop into her stomach. She was not going to lose her son this way. She was not going to let somone else she loved slip away again. Not this time. She knew what she had to do. She had to access her magic. What ever the hell it was she did at Lake Nostos, she had to do it again. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, allowing the energy to build up within her, until she was fairly certain she was radiating with it. She turned to Killian and gave him a slight nod, silently letting him know that whatever he was going to do, he needed to do it now. Killian received her message loud and clear.

In a flash, he rushed Cora, and before she had a chance to react, brought his blade down on her wrist, almost slicing it nearly off. She let out an angry scream of agony and shock, and had no choice but to let go of Henry before she lost her hand completely. Gold pulled on Henry's weightless body, yanking him away.

Once Emma knew that her son was safe, she let loose. A wall of intense, pure magic flew from her body and slammed into Cora with so much force, that it blew them both apart at the same time. Cora was flung over the boundary and slammed bodily into a nearby tree trunk. Emma was propelled backwards, her momentum bulldozing whoever was in her path. Unfortunately, that happened to be Mary-Margaret and David. They fell like a set of dominoes.

A few moments passed where absolutely nothing happened. Then, slowly, action started taking place again. Emma picked herself up off the ground, with the help of her stunned parents, while Gold laid Henry down in the back seat of his mother's car. Apparently, the effects of the sleeping powder managed to keep him blissfully unware of what was going on around him.

When everyone finally got to standing again, Killian noticed movement coming from Cora's body. He signaled to everyone to bring their attention, and then tried to step forward to finish her off, but Emma grabbed him by the shirt sleeve, wordlessly keeping him in place. She forced him to look down, and when his gaze followed hers and he saw the orange line, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

A sound in the distance caught their attention, and their heads snapped up to see Cora struggling to a standing position. She was clutching her wrist, seemingly in a great deal of pain, and it looked as though she was having trouble walking. Nonetheless, with a final murderous glare, she vanished in a thick, purple haze.

She's not done. Not by a long shot. 

Emma turned around and ran back to her car, as quickly as her pained body would allow. She had to see Henry.

The Charmings joined her to give eachother some much needed comfort.

While everyone's attention was diverted, Gold quietly made his way back to his own vehicle, anxious to return to town and Belle. The dark, penetrating glare that Hook was firing his way didn't escape his notice either.

Killian knew that now was the time. Cora was out of the way. Emma and her son were safe. He'd kept his word.

The weapon was in his hand, and the Crocodile was in his grasp. Finally...he could be done with this grotesque vermin.

Killian calmly made his way over to Gold's car, and as he was leaning forward to climb into the seat, stuck the tip of the dagger into the pawnbroker's back.

"Looks like you can't hide behind your magic anymore...dearie," the pirate said caustically. He allowed Gold to stand up and turn around to face him properly. He was, after all, gentleman enough not to stab a man in the back.

When Gold laid eyes on the dagger, he visibly stiffened. Killian did not at all miss the tremulous look on his face. Hook had him, and Gold knew it.

"I own your arse, Crocodile. What do you think I should do with you now, eh?" He asked sharply, thrusting the blade up under Gold's chin.

"You do know there are repercussions to using that dagger, don't you?" Gold asked, and at the flicker of confusion in Killian's eyes, he grinned nastily. "Oh...I suppose Cora neglected to tell you that little tidbit of information. I wonder why?"

Killian regained his composure quickly and ground out, "it doesn't matter, you putrid stain. You'll still be dead, and Milah will be avenged."

At that moment, he brought his arm back, ready to strike and end three centuries worth of misery.

At that moment, Emma stood up from inside her car, while her parents were walking back to theirs. She was looking for him, so that they could get out of there and get Henry to the hospital.

Within an instant, she saw him, his hand reared back, ready to plunge a knife into Gold's chest.

He promised he wouldn't. He swore. 

Why did he have to lie?

She knew she couldn't let him do it. If he did this, he'd be lost to her forever, either in death or to the darkness.

She had to stop him because...she...loved him. She loved him.

Without even thinking, Emma took off like a shot and made it to Gold in just barely enough time to shove him out of the way.

But she couldn't stop Killian's momentum. He wasn't seeing anything but bright red rage when she wound up squarely in his path.

He continued forward and drove the blade deep into her gut.

She was in such shock, that no air could be pushed from her lungs. Instead of a scream, she could only make a strained gurgling sound as the blood rushed up into the back of her throat.

Instantaneously, Killian's haze of fury melted away, and he looked down down to see the dagger lodged in her stomach, his hand still firmly gripping the hilt.

He was so horrified, that at first, he couldn't even speak. And then-

"EMMA!" He cried out as her legs buckled and she collapsed to the ground in his arms. He wasted no time pulling the blade out and tossing it away.

"Emma, no! No, no, no!" he yelled out with a stangled sob, cradling her in his arms, as her blood began to pool around them.

She looked up into his eyes, her hand softly caressing his face with the last bit of strength she had left.

"Why, Emma?! Why?!"

"C-can't l-lose y-you t-too..." she whispered, her voice fading away.

And then, she was still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Thought I was never gonna finish this chapter! I say again, no flames. There will be no character death in this story, just lots and lots of drama. Don't forget to review. I love to hear from you guys!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the penultimate chapter for Killian. Here, he will have to make some of the most important decisions of his life. There is a very important scene, wherein he is visited by a certain 'spirit' and for that I have chosen "Seven Shades of Blue" by Beth Nielsen Chapman as song inspiration. Please listen if you'd like. Also of note: I am of the Neal=Bae camp, so there may be some very subtle hint dropping in this chapter, but nothing too overt. I don't plan on pulling out that plotline until closer to the end of the story. Though I usually write the sections from different points of view, I have found that, for this chapter, the opening and closing sections are going to be written freestyle. There are simply too many characters involved for me to use only one person's point of view. Enjoy!

Just as Snow and Charming were about to climb into their car, they were stopped cold by the sound of Killian's agonized cries. When Snow turned and laid eyes on the bloodied, lifeless form of her daughter in the pirate's arms, she sprinted to Emma's side.

Charming was not far behind.

"EMMA!" She shrieked, sinking to her knees, heedless of the blood now soaking through her clothes. She tried desperately to get a better look at Emma's injuries, but Killian's hold on her was fierce. He absolutely refused to let her go.

In desperation, Snow yelled to him, "Hook!" But he made no attempt to acknowledge her. In fact, he seemed to be completely unaware of her presence-or anything else going on around him.

He held Emma tightly to him, his forehead pressed to hers, whispering a continuous, broken mantra: "I'm so sorry, Emma! I'm so sorry! Please...please don't leave me..."

Snow knew that she absolutely had to get his attention or Emma was libel to lay there and bleed to death. She did not fight this long and this hard for her child only to lose her now. She grabbed Killian's face in her hands and brought his gaze up to lock firmly with her own. In the sternest and most commanding voice she could muster, she again yelled, "Hook! What happened?! Tell me what happened?!"

He was still unresponsive-almost terrifyingly so. His eyes were completely vacant, and for a moment, it was as if he wasn't actually seeing her, but rather some hellish void of his own design. It seemed as though he might be going into shock.

Snow didn't want to have to take matters into her own hands, but the damn pirate wasn't leaving her any choice.

"HOOK!" She yelled, as loud as she dared, and slapped him clear across the face.

The act seemed to finally jolt him out of whatever abyss he'd temporarily slipped into.

"Killian..." she said, matter-of-factly, hoping that using his actual name might get him to listen, "please, I need you to let Emma go."

His gaze shot to hers with an 'over-my-dead-body' look, but Snow didn't have time to placate him. She continued resolutely, "Listen to me! I need you to lay her down so that I can try and stop the bleeding! I can't help her if you don't!"

At that, he appeared to relax slightly. Snow's words had apparently sunk in somewhere because Killian nodded and slowly lowered Emma to the ground. He then quickly shrugged out of his long coat and carefully placed it under her head as a makeshift pillow. Snow then hastily removed her own cardigan and pressed it into Emma's midsection, hoping against hope that it would do some bit of good towards stopping the bleeding. She'd seen the severity of the wound, and knew from experience that it could only have come from a dagger.

"Killian..." she softly pleaded, trying to pry some sort of explanation from him. When he looked at her, the overwhelming anguish in his eyes told her everything she needed to know, "what did you do...?"

Charming, however, could not be so easily cowed.

Kneeling by his wife and daughter's side, he had witnessed the entire exchange between Hook and Snow. He stood up sharply, needing to physically back away to keep his composure. He could feel his resolve not to rip the pirate limb from limb slipping with alacrity.

She never should have trusted him! Why did I let her?!

Looking around now, he could plainly see that Gold had, of course, vanished. His vehicle was gone as well. It was then that Charming noticed a gleam of metal on the ground behind Hook. When he bent down to examine it, he realized with a sickening clarlty that it was a dagger. And it was covered in Emma's blood.

In flowing script, it bore the name, Rumplestiltskin.

Seeing Killian now, and staring at the weapon in his hands, Charming's blood began to boil. He dropped the dagger, and consumed with fury, lunged for Hook, roughly hauling him up by the lapels of his doublet.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?! TELL ME! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?!"

Killian didn't even try to rebuff him. He hadn't the strength...nor the will. The remorse he felt was utterly crippling in its intensity. At this point, he would've gladly let the prince beat him to within and inch of his life, though he knew he deserved far worse punishment. No amount of physical pain he could inflict upon himself would ever excuse what he'd done to her.

"I...she...it wasn't supposed to happen this way!" He tried to say, but Charming was in no mood to listen.

He didn't need any further explanation. He already knew.

He tossed Killian aside gruffly and knelt back down beside Emma. He ran his fingers through her hair and, taking her hand in his own, leaned in to whisper words of strength. Though he knew it was a futile gesture at best, as a father, he could do nothing less.

Snow looked to him then, and for normally being so calm and collected, he had never seen her so terrified. The fear in her eyes was palpable, but she was doing her best to concentrate on keeping their daughter alive.

"David...we've got to get Emma to the hospital! She's lost far too much blood already! We need to go now!" Snow stressed, her tone resolute.

"Ok...ok. Umm..." David paused, looking around for a moment, "we can put her in the bed of my truck." Snow gave him a disapproving glare and and arched brow at the suggestion. "Look, it's the only way to transport her safely, Snow! My front cab definitely isn't big enough, and unless you want to risk injuring her further by trying to maneuver her into the backseat of the bug..."

"No...but..." she sighed, resignation setting in, "I suppose we have no other choice. Are you driving?"

"Yeah! Can you take the bug? Make sure Henry's alright?" He responded, his voice carrying as he ran over to the truck to pull it in closer.

"Yes! Just hurry!" Snow yelled back.

Charming quickly pulled the truck around, setting it as close to Emma as he could get. He then hopped out and rushed towards the bed, to release the tailgate.

Rejoining Snow, he knelt down to gather Emma into his arms, when his wife suddenly stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.

"Wait..." she said, her gaze traveling to a dejected-looking Killian, sitting against the side of Emma's car with his head in his hands, "what do we do about him?" She cocked her head in his direction, and the rage once again ignited in Charming's eyes.

"Nothing. Leave him here, for all I care. We don't have time to deal with him when Emma's life is at stake." Charming replied coldly.

"David! Please...we need his help!" Snow intoned, but the look on his face was incredulous.

"Snow...he did this! I am not letting that piece of filth anywhere near our daughter!" He snapped, gesturing at Hook with malice.

This, apparently, was enough to get Killian's attention, because he hurriedly picked himself up and rushed over to where Emma lay.

"Look...I know I did this! I know that...and you have every reason to hate me, but...she's right," he implored Charming, though it didn't seem to be making much of an impression. "You need help! Emma's life depends on it! Right now, nothing else matters..."

Charming looked from the pirate to his wife and realized that making any more arguments would just be wasting time.

Precious time that Emma did not have.

"Alright," he nodded slightly, finally giving in, "help me lift her into the truck bed. C'mon..."

They worked together in silence, Killian holding her head and torso, while Charming balanced her legs. The two men settled her down gently and Killian readjusted his coat underneath her to provide Emma as much comfort as possible. Charming took his coat off and draped it over her body to provide some type of warmth from the winter chill.

Killian was about to hop out of the truck, but Charming unexpectedly put a hand out to stop him, stating, "no...wait. I need you to stay with her. Make sure she doesn't get gostled too much." Killian nodded his agreement, and Charming headed for the driver's seat, but just before he slid in called out, "...and make sure to keep pressure on the wound!"

Within moments, both cars had sped off for town.

Fortunately, Snow had the foresight to call ahead to the hospital, letting Dr. Whale know to expect their arrival.

As soon as they pulled up to the front doors, Killian was already furiously fiddling with the tailgate, trying to release it so that Emma could be attended to. Charming tore out of the driver's seat almost before the car had even come to a complete stop, and ran around to the back to help him. Together, they carefully lifted Emma's body off of the truck and onto the gurney that the hospital staff already had awaiting her.

Snow parked the bug and ran up to meet them, with a now partially-awake Henry in tow. He'd begun to slowly come around on they way back, to his grandmother's immense relief.

The medical staff rushed Emma into the intensive care unit, Dr. Whale at her side, but that was as far as the Charming family was allowed to go.

The doors to the ICU thumped shut and then she was gone, leaving nothing but deafening silence in her wake.

Charming led Snow and Henry to a small waiting area and guided them both to some seats. The room itself wasn't much, just some couches and a TV, but it was secluded enough from the busy walkways of the hospital, that they could be afforded some measure of privacy. Snow let Henry lay out on the couch as she pillowed his head in her lap. He was still feeling the affects of the powder and was having a difficult time staying awake. Charming plopped down next to her, immediately sweeping her into his arms as she layed her head on his shoulder.

They both looked utterly drained and completely desolate. But they were a family of fighters, and after everything they'd already been through, they weren't about to give up now.

Because Emma wouldn't.

A few moments later, the sound of hesitant footfalls alerted them to a presence entering the room. Looking towards the doorway, they were unsuprised to see Killian standing there, wanting to join them, but unsure if he would be welcome. He seemed wholly out of place in his pirate garb, even though this was a town full of fairy tale characters.

Charming's anger rose once more at the idea that Hook could have the audacity to think they'd want him here...after what he'd done.

"Don't even think about it," David said, his tone flat, emotionless. "Get. The. Hell. Out."

Snow looked at Hook, wondering not for the first time, why she couldn't manage to find it in her to have that same kind of anger towards the man who had hurt her daughter. But when she saw his eyes, filled with such pain and despair, she knew in her heart that he had not meant for this to happen.

Snow remembered that look all too well...because she'd seen the same haunted sadness in Charming after she'd drunk the memory potion and told him she didn't love him anymore.

It was the visage of a man broken, of a soul shattered in unimaginable ways.

Right then, she made a decision. Charming might not agree with her, but he was going to listen to her, one way or another.

"David..." she turned to him, taking his hand in her own, "let him sit." She could tell he was about to launch into some kind of counter-argument, but she cut him off before he could even start. "Please...we've all been through enough. The last thing Emma would want is for us to start fighting. Maybe you don't believe it, but him being here," and at this, she turned to Killian, "it's because he cares about her, too."

David said nothing, but she could feel some of the tension leaving his body. He didn't bother to look in Killian's direction, but he didn't attemp to lash out again, either.

Snow beckoned him in with a small nod, and Killian entered slowly, taking the first available seat he could find nearest the door. It was a respectable distance from the Charmings, since all things considered, he was not trying to press his luck anymore than had been granted him today.

Time passed at an agonizing crawl. Whether it was minutes or hours, no one could really say.

The room was eerily silent, save for the intermittent twittering of the hospital's PA system.

The Charmings dozed lightly, having succumed to the stress and fatigue the day had rought. Killian was not so fortunate.

He couldn't close his eyes even if he'd wanted to. Because every time he tried, he'd see Emma's face, contorted in pain as he ran her through. He remembered the exact moment her last breath left her body; her final words a haunting echo of Milah's own from that day, so long ago. It was as if his worst nightmare-his most reviled memory-was being revisited upon him again.

But this time, he only had himself to blame.

His selfishness and arrogance had gotten Milah killed. And now Emma-his beautiful Swan-was paying the same price.

He looked down at his hand, covered in her blood, and tears began to prick the corners of his eyes. Tilting his head back to rest against the wall behind him, he began taking deep, ragged breaths, trying with every ounce of self-control left in him not to fall apart. His emotions were frayed to the breaking point; his nerves shot. He didn't know how much willpower he had left to keep holding on.

But he had to maintain strength-he had to. For Emma.

He'd been staring stoically at the ceiling tiles, an aching numbness setlling into his bones, when the sudden opening of the waiting room doors instantly commanded his attention.

A harried-looking Neal and August stumbled into the room, but were brought up short by the sight in front of them.

Bloodstained clothing, exhaustion, and misery.

Nobody seemed to notice they were there, at least not at first, until the noise of their entrance managed to rouse Henry from his slumber. He sat up slowly, rubbling sleep from his eyes, and it was this movement that attracted everyone's attention.

Snow perked up, raising her head from Charming's shoulder, and looked around to make sure nothing was wrong. Charming opened his eyes, not moving at all, but cast a bleary-eyed gaze upon their new visitors.

"Hey..." August said, not quite sure where to begin, "when you didn't come back to the station, we started to worry. We, umm," he paused, his gaze flitting to Neal for a split-second, "we thought we should check the hospitals first. You know...just in case someone was...hurt."

He was hoping they'd find this an acceptable explanation, so they'd be allowed to stay, but he soon realized that no one was really listening.

They sat down at a bank of chairs across from the Charming family, and for the first time, Neal was able to lay eyes on his son.

The boy gave August a sleepy grin and got up off the couch to envelope his friend in a hug. The unexpected action took August a bit by suprise, but he earnestly responded in kind, knowing that the comforting gesture was as much for Henry's benefit as for his own.

As the boy looked over at Neal, there was no hint of recognition whatsoever in Henry's eyes.

Snow and Charming looked at their grandson, then at eachother, their faces taking on matching, wary expressions. Neither of them were sure whether or nor they should step in and say something. After all, Emma had been none-too-pleased at Neal's presence, and she hadn't ever actually told them what kind of relationship she would've consented for him to have with her son-if any at all.

But, it seemed as if the two were attempting to take some small steps of their own. By silent communication, husband and wife decided to stay their tongues unless they felt it was absolutely necessary.

"Hi," Henry said, simply. "Are you a friend of August's?"

"Umm..." Neal began, nervously, suddenly unsure of what to say. In the end, he opted for something as close as possible to the truth. "Yeah. You could say that. I'm an old friend of your mom's, too. As a matter of fact, I came out here to see her. We lost touch a while back, and I was hoping we could catch up again."

"Oh," Henry replied, not really seeing any reason to disbelieve the man, although he found the fact that the guy was an outsider a bit intruiging. Then again, since his mother had broken the curse, nothing seemed to be as it was anymore.

"Well...that's cool, I guess. I'm sure she'll appreciate it."

Neal gave him an easy smile and gestured to the vacant chair next to him, wordlessly offering the boy a seat. Henry looked to his grandparents, his eyes silently seeking permission, and with a curt nod, they gave it.

He sat down next to Neal, absently fidgeting with his hands for lack of anything else to do.

Oh yeah. Definitely Emma's kid...

"So...you and my mom go back aways, huh?" Henry asked, curiousity getting the better of him. He knew so little of his mother's life before she came to Storybrooke, that he just couldn't help wanting some sort of insight.

"We do. A good...eleven years or so, I'd say. We had some pretty crazy adventures, her and me," Neal responded, his voice taking on a hint of wistfulness.

Before long, they were embroiled in a rather lively conversation about the twosome's past exploits. Henry seemed to be enraptured by the tales he wove, though Neal was careful enough to edit out the more colorful aspects of his and Emma's life. He wasn't sure what she wanted from him in regards to the boy and didn't want to overstep his bounds before she made her intentions clear.

Killian watched as the scene unfolded, the icy tendrils of revulsion seeping through him at the man's utter gall. This...wretch had destroyed Emma, broken her through and through, and now he had the nerve to sit there and try to make nice with a son who didn't even know him.

Oh, how he loathed Neal Cassidy.

But, after everything that had happened this day, he had to resign himself to the fact that it was not his place to interfere.

As much as he'd like to wrend a pound of flesh from the man's hide, Killian knew in his heart, that was not what Emma would want.

Besides, Killian knew he was in no real position to judge. After his own actions today, he felt as though he, himself, deserved a punishment a hundred times more severe.

It left a hollow feeling inside of him, but having decided that discretion was the better part of valor, he held back.

But that didn't mean he was taking his eyes off the bastard. Not for a second.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Killian was getting antsy.

He couldn't, for the life of him, understand why it was taking so long for someone-anyone-to bring word of Emma's condition.

The only bit of information they'd gotten since arriving was from a kindly nurse, whom he was sure Snow was going to badger into insanity if the poor woman hadn't given them...something. So far, all they'd learned was that Emma was still critical, and the doctors were doing all they could.

It gave them little comfort, but he reasoned, it was better than nothing.

At this point, Killian had taken to short fits of dozing. Sometime earlier, while listening to the twat prattle on to Henry, all of his energy seemed to leave him in one fell swoop. So far, he'd been running on nothing but pure adrenaline since Emma had...visited...the night before. With next to no sleep, the exhaustion was just too much for him to bear. His body had hit the proverbial wall and simply shut down.

Even still, he couldn't seem to sleep for any real length of time. He might've physically taken a hike, but his mind flat out refused stop working.

It was as though his brain had a mission to make him suffer.

All he could see was her face, her eyes, her smile. One moment, he'd dream about how beautiful she looked beneath him as they drove eachother to the heights of passion; her sweet kiss as he whispered his love. But then the next, it would shift to her lying broken and bloodied in his arms, confessing the truth of her heart for the first and last time.

It was a memory, he knew, that would haunt him until the end of his days.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been in and out, but there was a moment somewhere that he was sure he'd heard Emma's lad shuffling around, then him asking Snow something...but he wasn't really paying attention to the coversation.

All the sounds around him had coalesced into nothing but background noise.

He'd just woken up again for the-hell, he wasn't even counting anymore-when Henry started walking past him to the door.

Out the blue, the boy paused right in front of him, and giving him a look so completely genuine asked, "Hey...you want to come with me?"

At Killian's puzzled expression, Henry explained, "to the bathroom, I mean. I can show you how to use the faucet, you know...if you want?"

Following the lad's line of vision down, Killian understood then what he was getting at. He was asking him if he wanted help getting cleaned up.

It was only then that Killian realized just how long he'd been sitting there like that, Emma's blood drying and caking all over him. Suddenly, he was met with the overwhelming need to get it off of himself...right that instant.

He sat up straight, answering the boy with far more conviction than he felt, "I probably should, I suppose. Very well, lad. Lead the way..."

Killian was about to get up to leave, but the sound of Charming's stern voice stopped him in his tracks. "Henry...don't. Just go on ahead and leave him be, alright?"

"Gramps, it's ok...really," the boy stressed, obviously tired of being doted on like a mere toddler. "We're just going to use the bathroom, not start a mutiny..."

That took both Charming and Killian back a bit. They didn't expect the boy to have such brass. But it could be forgiven, considering...

Snow took her husband's hand in her own and gave him a look that said, 'let it go'. Against his better judgement, he complied, watching forlornly as the little prince and the big, nasty pirate quietly slipped out of sight.

The two seperately kept to their own devices as they made their way down the hall. The need for further conversation had become rather sacrosanct.

After a few minutes of walking, however, Henry made an abrupt stop at some sort of metal, cart-looking object that had been pushed up against the wall and, apparently, forgotten.

Stepping up to it, the boy rooted around in it's depths for a few moments, before coming back up with an odd, tunic-looking thing that was, in Killian's estimation, the most nauseating shade of green he'd ever seen.

"Here," Henry said, about to hand it over, but then thinking better of it. The remaining blood all over Killian's doublet would, no doubt, ruin it. "Actually...I'll just hold onto this until you're done."

Killian eyed the piece of clothing skeptically.

Noticing this and giving the pirate an exasperated eye roll, Henry sighed, "they're scrubs." A confused head tilt was the only response he received. "Doctors wear them so that they won't ruin their clothes. I mean...it's not much, but it's got to be better than what you're wearing now."

Looking from his bloodstained doublet to the 'scrubs', Killian nodded reluctantly. "Point taken, lad."

They continued on their way down the hall until they came to a set of two doors, one marked 'women'; the other, 'men'. Henry entered on the men's side, with Killian following closely behind.

This, 'bathing room', was like nothing he'd ever seen before. In his mind, this realm without magic was filled with an overabundance of marvelous oddities.

"Ok...here goes," Henry began, gesturing towards what looked like a washbasin, "this is for washing your hands. You just turn the knob, like this," which he then demonstrated, "and water comes out. There's also soap here," and he pointed to a colorful box mounted next to the mirror, "but it's automatic. Just put your hand under it, and the soap will come out."

Next, he walked over to two white, rectangular objects that were mounted on the opposite wall. He pressed something on one of them, and it began emmitting the shrillest noise that Killian ever had the displeasure of listening to. After about a minunte, though, the sound finally died out.

"When you're ready to dry your hand, just press the silver button and it'll turn on. It'll give you warm air for about a minute or so, but then it shuts down on its own. Got it?"

Killian nodded absently. Though this modern...magic would surely have been fascinating any other time, right now, he was finding it impossible to remain interested in much of anything.

Henry went on to, as delicately as possible, describe the purpose for the urinal and stalls. For an eleven-year old, this was likely the most uncomfortable thing he'd ever had to do, and Killian could definitely empathize with the lad's feelings of akwardness.

Apparently, even in fairy tale land, there existed that baffling social paroxism called, man law.

By unspoken agreement, Henry broke off to handle his 'business', while Killian moved over to the sink, readying himself for battle with the confounding contraption. Pushing his shirt sleeve up and then removing his hook, he turned the knob, making water appear, just as Henry had showed him. It was quite cold, though, so he tried the second knob, assuming that possibly, the other one was functioning improperly. This time, the water was much warmer, which suited Killian just fine.

Until it abruptly turned to scalding.

"OW! Blasted piece of-" he reeled back, tucking his hand underneath his arm in a futile attempt to staunch the pain. "What kind of dark magic could think to conjure such a thing?!"

Henry came up behind him, trying and failing to supress a chuckle. Seeing the pirate's harried expression, the boy had to bite his tongue to keep from bursting out laughing.

"None, actually," Henry revealed, his eyes filled with mirth. "You have to run both sides at once, to find just the right temperature."

"Here..." he trailed off, fiddling with the knobs until he managed to come to something acceptable, "this should be fine. Go ahead and try it."

Killian was wary, but did so, and was pleasantly suprised to find that the water was, indeed, just the right mixture of hot and cold.

Perhaps this realm might not be so vexing after all.

"I'm done, so...I'll just be right outside if you need anything. Cool?" the lad asked, already halfway out the door.

Killian nodded affirmatively, and Henry quickly disappeared.

Now that he was alone, he was able to close his eyes and take a deep, shuddering breath.

He headed over to the sink then, managed to get some soap onto his hand well enough, and started in on the scrubbing. It wasn't a particularly easy thing to do with only one hand, but three centuries was a long time to learn how to make do.

As he watched the last of Emma's blood ebb slowly away, a vision of her standing over him the night before-the glow of the firelight dancing around her as she leaned in for that first tentative kiss-assaulted his senses, causing a fresh wave of grief to swell within him. Eyes screwing shut, he reached out haphazardly with a trembling hand, to grip the sink hard. His chest constricted painfully as it became more and more difficult for him to breathe.

He could feel the bile rising in the back of his throat, and it was all he could do not throw up.

Taking a few deep breaths, Killian slowly opened his eyes again and splashed some water on his face. This seemed to have somewhat of a calming effect, but not by much. When he stood back up, he saw a haggard reflection of himself in the mirror...along with a split-second glimpse of something...or someone else.

He could swear it was...no. Impossible.

She's dead. Long dead and gone.

Shaking his head to clear it of such nonsense, Killian looked up again, and there she was. Staring straight at him through the looking glass.

Milah.

Killian turned around so rapidly, he almost lost his footing, but her image did not move. There she stood in front of him, plain as day...and as vibrantly beautiful as he remembered.

"M-Milah?" he stammered out, his voice a choked whisper. He could not believe what he was seeing! Had he finally gone mad from all his torment?

"Hello, my love," she answered with a wistful smile, though it did not reach her eyes.

"How did you-" he broke off, a lump forming in his throat. He walked toward her and slowly reached a hand out to caress her cheek, but stopped just short of his fingertips being able to graze her flesh. He knew there was no possible way this could be real. "How are you here?"

"I don't rightly know. Just visiting, I suppose," she said, bringing her hand up to grasp his without actually touching. "I think, maybe...it was time."

"Time?" he asked, dumbfounded. "I don't understand. Time for what?"

Sighing forlornly, she replied, "to let go."

"What?! No...I..." he recoiled from her as though he'd been burned, "I can't do that! You know I can't! Everything I've done, the centuries I've waited...all of this was for you! To make that coward pay for what he did!"

"And look what you've become, Killian!" She spat, pointing towards the mirror. Hesitantly, he turned around, already knowing what he would find. He'd stared into that hollow reflection every day for three hundred years. "Time has done you no favors, my darling, because I not sure you even know who you are anymore! I certainly don't!"

"I'm...I'm what I have to be, Milah," he whispered, bowing his head in defeat. "I wouldn't have...been able to go on any other way."

"That's a load of bollocks, and you know it!" She went on, not backing down for an instant.

He turned back towards her sharply, taking a step forward and getting right up into her face, his tone raw. "You never could walk away from a fight, you mouthy wench!"

"Oh...now there's a good boy," she grinned, seductively, "I knew you were still in there somewhere."

"You're wrong," he replied, emotionless, "the Killian you knew died a long time ago. Hook is all that I am now. It's all I'll ever be."

"No, you're wrong!" she fired back, pretending to stick her finger in his chest. "You forget...I know your heart...and so does she."

Emma...

"Oh, yes...Killian Jones most definitely lives. Because that's who she sees every time she looks at you. That's who I fell in love with the moment we met."

Knowing now that Milah was aware of his affections for Emma...it caused a swathe of hurt to well up inside of him. He'd never wanted to betray her memory, but he couldn't help how he felt. "Do you hate me...for loving her?"

Her face fell at the notion that he could believe such a thing. "Killian..." she trailed off, her eyes brimming with tears, "of course not. I've waited so very long for you to find happiness, to be whole again. I wasn't sure you ever would, but...as it turns out...love found you. She fills your heart with joy and a light that I never thought could burn so bright again. She made you want to be better. How could I possibly hate that?"

"And now I've consigned her to your fate..." he confessed, feeling utterly hopeless.

"She's strong, love," Milah told him sternly, wishing that she could grab his shoulders and shake some sense into him. "You have to believe in her. Fight for her. Just as she fought for you."

"But she was right about one thing, Killian," and at this, she looked him dead in the eyes, "this thirst for vengeance...it has to stop. Or it will be the death of you both."

"What would you have me do?! Just let that demon walk away as if he's done no wrong?! He murdered you! His own wife!" He bellowed, the rage flooding him anew. "Why would you let that stand?!"

"Because it's my price to pay, Killian! Not yours!" she cried, and he turned away, not wanting to hear anymore. They'd had this same argument the night before he was set to duel Rumplestiltskin. They'd spent hours screaming at eachother, she wanting him to walk away and allow her to handle it; he wanting to her stay out of it so that the Dark One wouldn't find out she was still alive and come for her. "Don't you dare turn your back on me, pirate! You will listen to me!"

Killian didn't move, but she knew he wasn't ignoring her. "What happened to me was not your fault. I was the one who was selfish. I was the one who walked out on my family...my son," she continued, her voice soft, but no less resolute. "You call him a coward...but then, what does that make me? Ten years we were together, and not once-not once-did I even try to see Bae. It wasn't as though you wouldn't have let me, you know. But I didn't have the courage to face him. To tell him the truth about his mother. I honestly thought he and Rumple would be alright. I...I had no idea he would go so far. It was my own actions that killed me, darling...not you. We fell in love, yes...but it was my choice to leave. And it was my cross to bear. I did what I did because you didn't deserve to die for my mistakes. It was not your fight, Killian! It was never your fight! You have got to stop killing yourself for losing me! It was my sacrifice, and I would gladly do it again if it meant you would live!"

All at once, the pent up anger, the fury-every ounce of black rage that he'd been surviving on for so long-surged forth as he rammed his fist into the wall with a horrendous roar. Cracks split the tile as bits of ceramic flew. His harsh and ragged breathing turned into pained mewls of emotional agony as he slowly slid down the wall to land on the floor with a dull thud.

Milah knelt down next to him and pleaded, her voice breaking, "please...please, Killian. Let this end. Mourn me, my love...mourn me, and let me go. You may never stop hating him, but revenge is not all that you are. The love you feel for the Swan girl is proof of that. She is your second chance. She is your life now. Let mine pass...and when you remember...smile to think of me."

"Milah..." he whispered, a choked sob tearing from within him, "don't go..."

Before he could say anything else, she faded into the ether, a faint, "goodbye..." carrying her voice to the winds.

And then, Killian Jones did something he hadn't allowed himself in over three hundred years.

He cried.

Great, heaving sobs wracked his body for all the pain and loss he'd ever hidden away. For all the lonliness and suffering. For everything.

There was no telling how much time had passed, but after a while, Henry reappeared, having heard the loud commotion and wanting to see if he was alright.

It didn't seem like there was going to be any moving the pirate, so the boy simply sat down next to him and let him have it out. He knew from experience that there was a certain kind of hurt that no words of comfort or thoughtful gestures could fix. Sometimes, someone just had to know you were there, and then they'd know they weren't alone.

After a few more long moments, Killian had finally started to calm down, and his tears ceased. Now, he was just sitting there, head back and eyes closed, breathing deeply.

He felt...lighter. But not clean. He'd done too much to ever be clean. The hate was still there, always burning away in the back of his mind, but the rage...the rage was gone.

He'd set Milah free. And now, so was he.

He turned his gaze to Henry, not even realizing he was there at first, but heartened by his presence, nonetheless.

"Thank you, lad," Killian told him, with genuine affection. He understood now why Emma fought so hard to get back to him. The boy was special. And he had his mother's heart.

"Who, me? For what?" Henry answered, feigning ignorance. "I just came in to make sure you didn't destroy the bathroom. Gramps would've had a fit."

He bumped shoulders with the not-so-swarthy pirate, and they both shared a little laugh. But the underlying meaning was understood. They didn't need anything else.

"You gonna put the shirt on now? 'Cause we need to get back. By now, Grams probably thinks you kidnapped me, or something," he deadpanned.

"Right," Killian agreed, pulling himself to his feet. His body still ached, but it was a good ache now. A release.

He removed his doublet and ruined black shirt, and Henry took them while he put on the scrub top. Since the sleeves were short, the complex workings of his prosthetic could be seen snaking up his left arm. Killian wasn't particularly happy about that, but there was nothing for it, so he reattached his hook, and the pair silently made their way back to the waiting room.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Killian and Henry returned to the waiting room, they were greeted by wide eyes and thinly veiled astonished gawping.

Because a man waltzing into a hospital in full pirate garb wasn't strange enough.

The look that passed Killian's face dared anyone to comment. Thankfully, no one said a word.

Retaking their seats, the unbearable wait resumed.

Another excruciatingly long hour passed, wherein Ruby stopped by to deliver some much needed nourishment and to check on the welfare of her friends. She bade Snow to keep her aprised of Emma's condition, should anything happen, and then quietly took her leave.

Henry had decided to sit with Regina for a while, now that she'd finally regained consciousness. He'd been worried about her and knew instinctively that she'd want to see him.

Someone had turned on the television at some point, if for nothing else than to alleviate the crushing silence. None of them was really paying any attention to what was being broadcast, instead just allowing the white noise to permeate the room.

Killian...was out cold. After the tremendous mental and emotional upheaval he'd endured, his mind had finally, blessedly, decided to switch off. He was dead to the world within five minutes of his ass hitting the couch.

After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened and Dr. Whale walked in, looking decidedly the worse for wear. He had dark circles under his eyes, and it appeared as if he was fighting a battle with himself simply to reman upright.

Charming and Snow were on him in an instant.

"Dr. Whale! Thank God! Please tell us that Emma's going to be alright!" Snow begged, becomming increasingly distraught. Charming put a comforting arm around his wife, trying to keep her as calm as possible.

The tightness in Whale's face and sorrow in his eyes spoke volumes.

Whatever he was going to say, it was likely nothing good.

Killian had jolted awake at the sound of Snow's voice and stood up, his body going rigid with trepidation at learning of Emma's fate.

All eyes were on the doctor now, waiting with baited breath for him to give them even the most miniscule glimmer of hope.

With a pained sigh, Whale began, "your Majesties...I wish I had better news to give you, truly I do, but I would be remiss if I were anything but honest. Your daugher's condition...is critical. I've done what I can to repair the most visible damage, but...she has sustained severe internal injury."

Snow choked back a sob, her hand flying to her mouth, while Charming's breathing grew labored, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

"We've done all we are able with what we have available to us, but I fear, it may not be enough. We can keep her in the intensive care unit; try to give it some time and see how well she recovers. But I should tell you, her chances are very slim. The fact that she's managed to keep fighting this long...well...it's a minor miracle in and of itself. Whatever your decision, we will make her as comfortable as we can, but I really do think you may want to prepare yourselves."

Neal and August dropped into their seats numbly, shock written on both their faces.

Killian began to sway on his feet, his heart ceasing to beat for a long moment. In his mind, he could feel the licking flames of hell at his back; sense the ground below him straining to burst open and consume him whole. He was going to burn until the end of time itself for what he'd done. He welcomed it.

Snow wept silently, curled into Charming's strong embrace. The prince, himself, looked to be on the verge of a complete breakdown.

"No!" Henry yelled in frustration. He'd been standing in the doorway, having just returned from visiting with Regina, when he'd heard the doctor's diagnosis. "Emma is strong! You'll see! But you've gotta believe in her! You can't give up!"

Snow immediately pulled away from Charming, turning toward her grandson. They hadn't even realized he was there.

"Henry..." she trailed off, tears still streaming down her face. She came over to kneel down in front of him, to try and give him words of comfort, but all he could see in his mind was his mother. All he could hear was her last desperate plea as she begged him to come back to reality after he warned her not to eat that blasted apple turnover.

Henry! This isn't a fairytale...

She reached for him, but he tore himself away, unable to endure anymore of her-or anyone's-placating gestures.

Running into the room, he angrily brushed past everyone and...threw himself right into Killian's unwitting arms.

The entire group was, for a long moment, rendered utterly speechless.

Killian just stood there, his arms outstretched, as the devastated child wrapped his arms around the pirate's middle and held on for dear life. He had absolutely no idea how to react, as the boy had caught him completely unawares. But, remembering what Henry had done for him just a short while ago, he very much understood what the lad needed.

He just had to be there.

So, Killian lowered his arms and embraced Henry tightly as the boy's body trembled with the force of his tears.

Both Charming and Neal had the overwhelming urge to put a stop to the entire display, but looking at Henry now, they couldn't help but recognize that the two had somehow...bonded. It made absolutely no sense at all, but there was no way it could be denied.

Snow was quite mesmerized as well, but there was something about what Whale said that kept her mind focused elsewhere.

"Whale," Snow started, standing back up to face him directly, "what did you mean, 'what we have have available'?"

The doctor blinked, somewhat confused by her statement. "I..."

"Is there some other option you know of but haven't tried? A procedure?" With that question, she now had everyone's undivided attention. Even Killian and Henry were looking on earnestly. "Because if it's permission you need, trust me, you have it. Whatever you have to do, please!"

Understanding dawned on him, and Whale gave her a sympathetic look. "Ma-Snow...that wasn't what I meant. I just meant that...well...Emma has injuries that are internal and severe. For her to survive, she would need invasive surgery. This I could perform, of course, but not with what means I have available to me here. In this hospital. In Storybrooke."

Snow looked flabbergasted. "Wait...what?! That...that doesn't make any sense! This is a hospital, isn't it? And you are a surgeon, are you not? So, why-"

"Yes, this is a hospital! And I am a sugeon! In a town where, for twenty-eight years, the people here neither aged, sickened, nor died! Somehow, I think the need for fully capable medical care was far down on Regina's list of priorities when she cast the curse!" He shot back, fatigue making his temper short. "I...I'm sorry. I don't even have a working CT machine to get a decent internal picture. I've been relying on goddamned x-rays!"

"But, there is a way? Charming asked, jumping on Snow's bandwagon. If there was chance he could save his daughter, he would take it, no matter how remote it might be.

Henry was right. His family didn't give up. Ever.

Now everyone was really interested.

"Well...the only possible way that she could..." Whale started, but then just as quickly, reconsidered, "no...no, it's impossible."

"You forget who we are doctor. Nothing is impossible," Snow stated with total conviction.

Sighing in resignation, he continued, "the only way Emma can get the treatment she needs is...is by taking her out of Storybrooke. To a more fully equipped hospital."

At his declaration, they all looked at eachother, wondering. Could it be done?

This was just what Henry needed to hear to give him a newfound rush of enthusiasm. "Yes! That's it!" He ran to his grandparents and grabbed them both by the arms. "Didn't you say that there was always a way? That good always triumphs over evil? Well, this is it! We can do this! I know we can! All we have to do is take her by ambulance to the next closest major city and get her to a good hospital! How hard can that be?"

Everyone was starting to feel buoyed by the boy's eagerness, but Charming was smart enough to know that there were certain complications to this plan that simply couldn't be avoided.

"Henry, I...I suppose it might be possible, yes, but-" he tried to sound cautiously optimistic, until Snow broke in.

"David..." she turned to him, grabbing his hands and imploring, "please. If there is a way, no matter what it is, we have to try. She's our little girl, and I will not lose her again. Do you understand me?"

Seeing the rock hard look in her eyes, Charming couldn't hope but be swayed.

"Alright," he agreed, giving her a loving smile. He then turned to Whale to start putting the plan in motion. "Doctor, how long would it take to get Emma prepared for transport? Ambulance, supplies...whatever she needs?"

The surgeon's eyes widened dramatically. This was not what he was expecting in the least. "Now, just hold on a minute," he held up his hands, his voice carrying the weight of his doubt, "Emma is barely stable right now as it is, without talking of road trips and such! She's in absolutely no condition for extended travel! The very idea is ludicrous! I understand your desperation to save your daughter, but the risk is simply too great! Her condition is such that she may die before you even get there! Emma is the most tenacious patient I've ever had, but even I don't know what's keeping her alive right now! If she were anyone else, I'd wager she would already be dead! Where she's finding the strength, God only knows..."

"Well...I'm definitely not God, but I do know the answer to your question," a new, but very familliar voice joined the conversation from out of nowhere.

All heads simultaneously snapped in the direction of the sound, only to find-

"Gold." Charming stated plainly, his hackles already rising. "What are you doing here?"

Killian automatically took a step back, not necessarily out of fear, but self-preservation. The demon still had magic...and a very substantial reason for wating him dead. Normally, he's be at the man's throat right about now, yet after what happened with Milah, the need for revenge he'd clung to so fiercely for so long, seemed to have drained out of him. Oh, he still hated the creature. That would never change. But just because the need to kill the man had fled him, didn't mean he desired to be in his presence, either.

Curiously enough, though, he noticed that Neal was staring very hard at Gold, but at the same time, feebly trying to pretend he wasn't. The twat looked like he'd seen a ghost. Even more odd, was the fact that, over the course of the evening, he'd intermittently caught Neal throwing strange glances his way. At first, he thought it had something to do with what he was wearing, but as time went on, he realized it was more that that. It was as if he thought Killian was familliar to him in some way. The whole thing was extremely disconcerting.

"Your majesty...seeing as I was partially responsible for the tragedy that befell young Miss Swan," and at that, his fiery gaze bore straight into Killian's own, "I thought it prudent to come and offer my sincerest apologies...and whatever help I can give. Mind you...magic, especially here, can only go so far. If I could heal her, I would, but alas, it is not in my power. I can, however, extend to you this little morsel of information: I know why your daughter still lives."

"Well?" Snow asked, nonplussed.

"Hmm...how easily you forget where you come from," he stated, a remnant of a maniacal grin peeking through. "You don't understand just how powerful your daughter truly is, do you?"

"Enlighten me." She demanded.

"She is the living embodiment of true love. The most powerful magic in creation. That is what is keeping her alive. Her heart. Or, I should say, the strength of the love it contains. That it where her magic lies. It's why Cora couldn't kill her. Thing is though...even something as indomitable as that has its limits. Emma's magic will help her, but her body is failing. Eventually, the magic will, too." Gold revealed, in his customary dramatic fashion.

"But that'll buy us some time, correct? Enough to get her out of here and to another hospital?" Snow kept on, unwilling to back down.

"I suppose it would. Though for how long, I can't honestly say," he explained, bluntly. "There is one small, but not insignificant detail that you're overlooking, dearie," he reminded her, never one to mince words.

Thinking about it for a couple of seconds, Snow's face fell, her shoulders slumping in defeat as she realized what Gold was referring to. "The boundary spell."

"But that means...none of us can take her without risking losing our memories," Charming sighed, his frustration and desperation mounting. "Damn it!"

Neal and August looked at eachother sharply then, both coming to the same conclusion. They stood up and walked directly over to the Charmings, and commanding their attention, said, "We can."

"What?" The two royals said, almost in unison.

"Listen," August started to explain, determination in his voice, "the boundary spell only affects those touched by the curse. Neal and I weren't. Neither was Emma. That's why we can come and go. This can still work. We can take her."

Snow scoffed at the idea. Charming looked downright suspicious.

"That may be true, and I know you mean well, but...I have no reason to trust you. Especially with my daughter's life. The both of you have already screwed it up enough for the last twenty-eight years, don't you think?"

"I know. Believe me...I know. But if you let us do this, we might have a chance at least to try and make things right. Please..." August replied, adamantly.

"You've got every reason in the world to hate me," Neal added, in utmost seriousness, "I know Emma does, and I don't blame her. But this...this is beyond petty personal squabbles. This is Emma's life we're talking about. Whatever I have to do, it's going to be done. I don't care what arguments anyone else has. Because we either do it this way...or she dies."

"Alright, alright," Charming gave in, feeling like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. "I suppose we really have no other choice."

Snow nodded her agreement, and her husband turned to Whale with a knowing look. "Do what you need to do, doctor."

Whale didn't agree with this plan at all. His first priority was Emma's well-being, but...it seemed he'd been outvoted.

With that, he turned and left, ostensibly to get the ball rolling.

During this entire conversation, Killian had been thinking. While he admired their tenacity, he had no liking for Neal and August whatsoever. He had even less inclination to trust the nature of their intentions towards Emma. They had betrayed her once; what was to say they would not do so again, given the first opportunity? Sure, they might take her to this other...place...but then could just as easily abandon her afterwards, thinking their promises and amends fulfilled.

No. His Swan's life was far too precious to trust to their care, alone.

He'd sworn to her that he'd never be like them. That he wouldn't walk away. And she'd almost sacrificed her life because she believed him.

Killian thought the decision would be much more difficult. Turns out, it was the easiest one he'd ever made.

Rumplestiltskin didn't even factor into the equation anymore. Emma was all that mattered.

Stepping up to the group without preamble, he interjected, "I'm going with you."

The conversation ceased, and they all looked at him as though he'd grown a second head.

"You know what? I knew you were an arrogant son-of-a-bitch, but I had no idea you were insane on top of that. Are you honestly serious?" Charming responded, stone-faced.

"Deadly," Killian responded, without hesitation. "You lot have gotten far too good at breaking your word when it comes to Emma. But I will not. I vowed that I would not be another person to leave her. Her life is hanging in the balance because of that promise. Challenge me, if you will, but I would die before breaking it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! That's another one in the can! Somehow, I have this niggling feeling that this chapter might not turn out to be as good as the others. I really hope the scenes with Killian, Milah and Henry turned out well. This chapter was very important to me, for Killian's sake. The thing between him and Henry just kind of came to me and wouldn't leave. It just made such perfect sense. Well, I hope you guys enjoy it. Please review, as that's what keeps my CaptainSwan train a-chuggin' down the tracks!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Sorry this is coming so late. Spring semester just started, so I'm getting back into the swing of things. Between work and college assignments, it's difficult to find time for writing. Anyways, this chapter is still Emma-less, but fear not my friends, for she will make a valiant return in chapter 7. This chapter will be more freestyle writing because there are just too many characters to deal with all at once. Hope you enjoy!

Knowing that Killian had absolutely no intention of backing down, Charming realized that there was little point in continuing the arguement. Every minute they spent bickering and posturing was one less that Emma had to survive. Dr. Whale had returned shortly thereafter, informing the beleaguered royal that his daughter would be ready for transport within the hour. She would be given all the necessary accommodations that the hospital could provide.

Given the limited amount of time they had to prepare, Snow and Charming sprung quickly into action. Charming told August to be sure that his car was fully fueled and to get together whatever he and Neal needed to get on the road. The two left without another word, Charming following closely on their heels, claiming that he had some preparations of his own to make.

Snow was left with the unenviable responsibility of dealing with Killian. He obviously could not go out into the modern world wearing clothing that made him look like 'Captain Jack Sparrow'. Deciding that Henry would be alright for a while in the pirate's care-considering that the boy had been all but glued to the man's side since their bathroom 'adventure'-she departed, explaining that she was going to her apartment to find some of David's clothes that Killian could borrow.

That left him as he was-presently sitting with Henry on a couch in the waiting room-with nothing but the lad's soft voice to curtail the encroaching slience. At some point during the night, Charming had returned to Regina's house in order to pick up his grandson's belongings since his continuing to stay with her was now entirely out of the question. He'd brought back the boy's storybook, knowing how much Henry adored it and never went anywhere without it. Charming had hoped having the book near would go some way towards making him feel more at ease.

Now, with everyone having left to handle their personal business, Henry had decided it would be a good time to crack the book open and show Killian just how this 'realm without magic' viewed the land of fairy tales. For Killian, listening to Henry was a welcome and well-needed distraction from not only the gravity of the situation they were in, but also his growing discontent at being left alone with-of all people-Rumplestiltskin.

Why the imp had stayed, he really couldn't say. The pawnbroker had mentioned something about being concerned for Emma and wanting to be available should anything go wrong at the town line. As he was the only other person in Storybrooke with any type of magical skill, the Charmings could hardly refuse him. They were desperate to ensure that everything went as smoothly as possible, for Emma's sake.

Killian, however, was sure that the Crocodile was simply using their desperation as an opportunity to further his attempts at manipulating the boundary spell. The man didn't have an ounce of altruism in his bones. Everything he did, even his rare acts of kindness, was always meant to fuel his own personal agenda. The risk they were taking in allowing the creature to be anywhere near Emma, especially considering how much he'd been salivating over her newfound, latent magical ability, was insane.

In that instant, the cogs in Killian's mind began to turn, his hand tightening into a fist. Leveling his gaze at the sorcerer who was, at the moment, engaged in a hushed conversation using the small communication device that Smee had referred to as a 'cell phone', the pirate resolved with unwavering determination that he would not let Rumplestiltskin take Emma from him the way he took Milah.

He'd already lost once, and as a result, spent three centuries consumed with soul-shattering, grief-filled, black rage. It was an existence hardly to be calling living. Without Emma...there would be nothing left. She was his light in the darkness, and he knew beyond doubt that if he lost her, it would destroy him.

Henry's slight tugging on his hook brought Killian out of his thoughts, and he turned sharply, somewhat stunned that the boy held no reservations whatsoever toward his oft-times imposing appendage. Most people were wary of the hook-frightened even-of what they knew he could do with it, but not Emma's lad. No...he simpy regarded it as a matter of course and paid it no mind.

Indeed...he was his mother's son.

"Hey...you're gonna love this! It's your story, Killian," Henry explained, eagerly pointing out the pages. "See? Second star to the right, and straight on 'till morning. Peter Pan and his adventures in Neverland."

Killian smiled wistfully, looking on with fondness at the book's renderings of lost boys, pixies and pirates. Those children were a bloody nuiscance, to be sure, and those dust-slinging little chits were annoying as all hell, but they gave him a good, long run. Neverland was a realm of fantasy, an escape. You only brought there what you came with, and he'd deeply hidden his pain behind well-fortified walls, built with anger and bitterness. Every adventure, every battle, drove the grief father and father away until nothing but an intense, dark fury remained.

For a time, he almost forgot his revenge. Almost.

"Well, I'll say the author had the right idea, but I assure you lad, I am not now, nor have I ever been a nancied poof," he replied, his face a vision of mock seriousness. He thumped the picture of 'himself' with his hook and continued, "whoever wrote this...tripe...must've gotten their description of me from Tinkerbell. She would do something like that, just to work my last nerve, the devious little trollop. Obsessed with me, she was. Completely and utterly. She didn't take too kindly to me when I left, you see. Drove Pan to maddening distraction."

"Wait...you're not serious?! You and Tinkerbell?! Really?!" Henry exclaimed, with all the excitement of youth. The boy's eyes were positively twinkling in his eagerness to learn more. Killian couldn't help but grin. It was warm and bright. The truest smile he'd worn since...well...before he could even remember.

He'd never considered himself anybody's hero, not by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, most people who had the misfortune to cross his path would've described him as downright villainous. He was a pirate. Saving lives and defeating evils wasn't exactly in his nature. He was the one that people usually needed saving from. There was more than enough blood on his hands to prove that.

Emma's blood...

Her face contorted in agony as she collapsed in his arms...

She could very well die, and he had no one to blame but himself. This entire endeavor was frought with uncertainty. If she would even survive the trip to another hospital was anybody's guess. Looking at her son now, thoroughly engrossed in his stories, Killian knew he could not leave without telling the boy the truth. Henry deserved to know what really happened to his mother...and who was ultimately responsible for almost ending her life.

"Henry," Killian said, his voice taking on a gentleness of which he hadn't realized he was still capable. Putting his hand over Henry's, which was resting on the page he'd been reading, Killian slid the book from the boy's grasp and set it aside.

The boy looked up at him, his eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and worry. Killian's tone seemed somehow...off. And Henry wasn't liking that one bit. Conversations that started out in such a way almost never ended well, at least in his experience, anyway.

"What is it?" he asked, tentatively, not entirely sure if he really wanted to know.

With a pained sigh, Killian replied, "lad, there's...there's something I think you ought to know. About what happened to your mum. I know how hateful it can be when people try to keep the truth from you. Oh, they mean well, surely, but it just winds up making you angry at them for not trusting you...and angry at yourself for feeling so helpless. I can understand that. You see, someone I cared for very deeply tried to keep me out once. She said she was trying to protect me. That she didn't want me to pay the price for her mistakes."

"What happened? Did everything work out in the end?" Henry inquired warily, and judging by Killian's darkening expression, didn't like at all where this was going.

"Unfortunately...no," he answered, his voice layered with sorrow, "she...she died," he paused, swallowing the lump in his throat, "and I spent the next three hundred years hating myself for not being able to do...something-anything-to save her. More than that, though, I hated her...for not letting me. That's why I wanted to talk to you, lad. I want you to know what happened to your mum. You may despise me for it, and I would not blame you in the least, but you'll know what happened was not your fault, and there was nothing you could've done to stop it. The blame, lad, lies squarely with me...and me alone."

Henry's eyes widened at the pirate's implication. "Killian...what are you saying? Did you do this? Did you hurt my mom?"

The pleading look in the boy's eyes made Killian physically ache. He lowered his head, unable to face Henry any longer, his eyes screwing shut as horrendous waves of guilt and remorse bore down on him like a ten-ton anchor.

"Yes," he replied, his voice barely a whisper that Henry had to strain just to hear. All of a sudden, Killian's head shot up and his gaze locked right onto Henry's with desperate intensity. "But I swear on my own life that I never meant for any of this to happen. It was supposed to be Rumplestiltskin at the end of that blade. Not your mum. Not Emma. She shoved him out of the way...to save him, I suppose. But by then, it was too late. She was in my path, and I couldn't stop myself."

"You see, Rumplestiltskin took someone from me, long ago. Someone I...loved. I swore vengeance upon him, no matter the cost. Three hundred years I waited. Planned. My heart filled with such bitterness and hatred, that my soul became black with it. I wasn't myself anymore. I don't know what I was. But then...I met Emma."

He smiled then, unable to hide the warmth in his eyes and the affection in his voice, as he thought back to his time in the Enchanted Forest alongside the fiery sheriff.

This change in countenance was definitely not lost on Henry, and he grinned knowingly.

"Being with her, I..." Killian trailed off, not quite sure how to put into words how he felt in a way that Henry would understand. "She was brilliant. After so many years of being utterly numb to the world, your mum...she made me feel again. She made me believe, Henry. That I could be more than just my revenge. I was so, so very lost, lad...and she found me."

Henry didn't respond when Killian fell silent, but the pirate was well aware that he still had the boy's undivided attention. "The woman who died...Milah...she meant everything to me. I loved her dearly. But...I don't think I knew what love really was until Emma came into my life. I don't need revenge anymore, Henry, because your mum gave me a new reason for living-for her."

Henry kept his eyes glued to Killian's as he spoke, seeking out any hint of deception, but the sincerity in the man's voice gave truth to his words. The boy looked down at Killian's hook, eyeing it with a new sense of clarity and understanding. He grabbed ahold of it and lifted it slowly, so that it was positioned between them and replied, "she was right, you know. This isn't all that you are. If she didn't truly believe that, she wouldn't have done what she did."

Killian looked from his hooked hand to the boy, puzzled as to his meaning.

"Mom wasn't saving Rumplestiltskin, Killian...she was saving you," he answered the unspoken question without the slightest hesitation, and then without another word, lifted the pirate's arm up and around him, burrowing into Killian's side, as they both took comfort in eachother's warm embrace.

That was how Snow and Charming found them, asleep together on the couch, when they returned roughly forty-five minutes later.

Looking at eachother with twin expressions of incredulity, Charming whispered, "why did we let him make nice with the pirate, again?"

"We didn't, David," Snow replied, her gaze falling upon them, "they did this on their own...and that doesn't necessarily make it a bad thing, you know. It may seem wrong, but-"

Charming interrupted her with a pronounced grunt. "Oh, no. Don't you dare go there, Snow. I do not need the picture in my mind of my grandson calling Captain Hook, 'Dad'!

"I didn't say anything!" She chuckled softly, then walked over to Henry, giving his shoulder a light tap to wake him.

He stirred slightly, cracking an eye open to see who was there, and once he realized his grandparents had returned, Henry carefully attempted to dislodge himself from Killian's embrace. His movements, however, were enough to rouse the slumbering pirate, and he too was soon awake.

"Hey, kiddo. Was everything alright while we were gone?" Snow asked, trying very hard not to sound overly concerned.

"Yeah. No worries," he replied, sitting up and stretching a bit. Killian stood up to work the kinks out of his back, and as he did so, Snow came over to him with a small duffel bag in hand.

"Umm...this is for you," she explained, handing it to him, "but I had to do a bit of guesswork with your size. You and David seem to be about the same body type, so I'm assuming this should work."

Unzipping the satchel, Killian perused its contents, and although the items were not exactly to his taste, he managed to at least appear grateful and not come off as a tactless oaf.

"Thank you, milady," he bowed slightly, almost exactly as he'd done when she untied him at the foot of the beanstalk. Only this time, he'd decided against the seductive wink. That was one of Charming's buttons he knew enough not to push.

"I'm sure these will do. Now, if you'll excuse me, I shall return momentarily," he assured her and slipped quietly out of the room.

Turning back to Charming, Snow blinked rapidly, and with a somewhat blank expression on her face, said, "well...if that wasn't just seven levels of akward..."

Shaking off that disconcerting sensation, Snow walked over to the couch and sat down beside Henry, handing him a paper bag full of all manner of goodies.

"These are from Granny and Ruby. They thought you could use a little pick-me-up," she told him with a loving smile.

Not realizing just how hungry he'd been, Henry eagerly tore into his treasure.

"Easy now!" Snow laughed as she watched him. "There's no need to inhale it, Henry! Trust me, it's not going anywhere!"

The next few minutes were passed in relative silence as Henry ate and the Charmings continued to wait for everyone else to return. After a little while, Killian reappeared, which caused even more awed gawping than before, to see him in normal, modern clothing. Granted, it was just a pair of black denim jeans and a black, long-sleeved Henley shirt, but it was definitely a change from what they were used to. Killian was obviously aware of this, but if he was in any way uncomfortable, he made no mention. His ever-present jewlery had disappeared as well, save for one solitary, silver thumb ring.

He walked purposefully over to the couch and sat down on Henry's other side. Reaching into the satchel, Killian pulled out a handful of small items and then sat the bag on the floor.

Turning towards Henry, his face the picture of seriousness, he said, "so...I don't suppose you could do us a favor and keep an eye on these for me?"

Looking at what he was holding, Henry could plainly see that in the pirate's hand were two silver rings inlaid with large red gems, a long silver necklace with two sword and crossbones pendants, and a lone silver earring.

Henry was completely speechless. He knew these trinkets were amongst Killian's prized pieces. For the pirate to trust him with such a thing...well..the boy had no idea what to say. He was floored.

"Killian, I...are you sure?" He asked, slowly extending his hand toward the objects, wanting a closer look, but pulling back at the last minute before he was able to touch.

Grinning a bit at the boy's nervousness, Killian replied, "relax, lad. While it's true these baubles do have some worth to me, they're not exactly priceless. Even so, you'd do right to remember that a pirate never gives up his treasure without good reason. But I know I can trust you, yeah? You'll take excellent care of them for me, won't you, lad?"

Henry nodded vigorously, and Killian handed the jewlery over. The boy accepted the booty with slack-jawed amazement. The smile he gave the pirate positively lit up the child's entire face. Killian couldn't help but smile back.

Before any further comment could be made, though, the waiting room door once again opened. August and Neal made their way in, with Dr. Whale following closely behind.

Charming looked decidedly relieved that everyone had finally returned, and they could get this show on the road.

The clock was ticking, and it was time to get down to business.

Charming approached Dr. Whale with purpose and asked, "is she ready?"

"Yes. All preparations have been made, and there's an ambulance in the bay waiting for you. She's safe to travel...for now," Whale answered, hoping they would understand the point he was trying to stress.

"What do you mean, 'for now'?" Charming eyed the doctor with barely contained civility. He was not in the mood for any more suprises.

"I mean...Emma is stable," the doctor barked, fed up with being the target of everyone's aggression. "But, if you want this to work, you're going to have to keep her that way. I've made sure the ambulance has been outfitted with all the necessary life-saving equipment. Hopefully, if we're lucky, it won't have to come to that."

He then handed Charming a thick, manila envelope, explaining, "these are Emma's medical records and insurance information. Make sure the doctors at whatever hospital you decide on have these in hand. They'll need it."

"Thank you," Charming replied with a curt nod, which the doctor silently returned before departing the room.

Focusing his attention back on the crowd, Charming deftly slipped into 'regal' mode, already knowing that a serious amount of diplomacy was going to be required to ensure that his daughter's...escorts...would be able to complete their mission.

Preferably without killing eachother.

"Alright...here's how this is gonna go," Charming began, getting straight to the point. "I talk. You listen."

The three men wisely decided to keep silent, giving the royal complete control of the floor.

"While we were waiting, I took the liberty of making some preparations of my own. Emma's life is far too precious to all of us for anything to be left to chance. This," Charming paused, pulling a small envelope out of his inside coat pocket and holding it up for them to see, "should be enough to get you...wherever you decide to go, and put you up for a few days. I wish it could be more, but it's all I was able to come up with at such short notice."

He was about to hand the envelope over, but at the last second, a niggling sensation of doubt fell upon him, running like icy tendrils down his back. He couldn't help but be suspicious, especially considering the dubious nature of all three of them.

They were none of them saints, and trust was not a word best used to describe how he felt about their intentions.

Making a quick decision in his mind, Charming said, "you know how much I don't like this, right? This envelope contains a good number of townspeople's hard-earned money. Everyone contributed because they care about Emma and want her to live. So, you tell me...how exactly do I go about choosing who gets to have control of it? I mean, my options aren't exactly...impressive."

"A lair. A pirate. And a thief," he continued, pointing to each of them with the hand holding the envelope. "Tell me, how would you decide?"

The three looked at eachother, uncertainty written in their faces. Between them, they held a barely veiled tolerance towards one another. There was no telling what they were truly thinking, yet none could offer up an adequate response because they were all very well aware of the point Charming was trying to make.

"If I had it my way, not a single one of you would be setting foot near my daughter, but unfortunately, I have very little choice in the matter. So, you'll excuse me if I come off as being a bit...picky."

His gaze flicked between each man successively before it finally stopped, settling onto Neal. Before he could question his better judgement any further, Charming begrudgingly handed the envelope over to Emma's ex-lover.

Neal seemed genuinely suprised, but appreciative of his trust, nonetheless.

August gave an undignified snort, while Killian's hand clenched into a fist at his side and his stance became stiff as a board. It was glaringly obvious that the two were very highly displeased.

Charming rolled his eyes in exasperation. He did not have time for them to be childish.

"Hey! Cut the crap! Look, I could give a damn about whatever personal issues you three have! This isn't about what you want! It's about what's best for Emma! August," he paused, turning to the man in question, "to be perfectly honest, I don't trust you. Apparently, you blow through money like it's going out of style and will go to any lengths to get your hands on more. You'll have to forgive me if that's not very...inspiring. And you," this time, he directed himself at Killian, "well...I know paper money isn't quite shiny enough to tickle your fancy-"

"Oi!" Killian huffed, resentful of the implication.

"-But," Charming went on, completely ignoring the pirate's outburst, "quite frankly, Hook, you know less than nothing about how this realm's currency works, and I really don't have the time to teach you. At this point, Neal is the lesser of three evils. So deal with it."

There were a few low grumbles and certain words were mumbled, but beyond that, nothing more was said on the matter.

"Neal," Charming said, calling the man's attention, "there's enough cash in that envelope to keep the ambulance gassed, as well as provide for food and supplies and, perhaps, a few nights lodging, if you play your cards right. Spend it wisely, because once it runs out, you guys are on your own. Understood?"

"Understood." Neal replied, resolutely.

Charming then handed August the package with Emma's medical records, and the two men proceded to head out to the ambulance bay.

Killian had become equal parts agitated and flabbergasted at how Emma's father could be so foolish. Alright, so maybe mistrust of pirates runs in the family, but...honestly? A liar? And a thief? The very idea was ludicrous. After all, a brigand Killian might be, but he was a brigand with a code.

One he'd lived by all his life.

And one he would never break.

Killian was still stewing inwardly as everyone who remained began gathering their belongings together in order to leave. In short order, Snow slipped away, leading Henry in the direction Neal and August had gone, so that he would have the chance to say goodbye to his mother. Just as Killian was about to follow them out, he was stopped short by an unexpected hand on his shoulder.

It was Charming, and he looked to be the epitome of uncomfortable.

"Umm...listen...I didn't want to do this with those two here," Charming explained, tilting his head towards the door which Neal and August had exited through. "It's bad enough that the three of you can barely stand to be in the same room together. I was not about to get into a pissing contest with you guys over who was the best person to be put in charge. This isn't a grade school field trip, Hook. This is Emma's life. I had to make what I thought was the right decision for her best interests. That being said, I have absolutely no reason to explain myself to you or anyone else. You got my daughter into this mess, which means, I don't owe you a damn thing."

Charming paused for a moment, noticing that Killian's expression was beginning to get heated. With his nerves as frayed as they were, it would take little provocation to set him off.

"But..." he continued, his voice softening somewhat, "I had to do it this way because they know the outside world, beyond Storybrooke; you don't. They may be the worst kind of screw-ups imaginable, but they know what they're doing. I may not be sure of much about them, but I at least know they care about Emma, which means they'll do whatever is necessary to keep her alive."

Killian couldn't find fault with his reasoning, but he was failing to see what any of this had to do with him. He was growing increasingly impatient to get to the ambulance bay...and Emma.

"However, that's as far as my generosity goes concerning them. Now...I don't know what's been going on between you and Emma, and truthfully, I don't want to know. Otherwise, this conversation might end very differently. My daughter told me, not so long ago, that even if I didn't trust her...allegiances...I should just trust her. I can't explain it, and I don't know if I even understand it, but for some reason, Emma saw something in you. Something redeemable. Something worth saving. She was ready to give her life for that belief, though we both know you're anything but deserving of it. Still...she did something with you that I was worried would never happen. She let you in. Snow and I haven't been able to get that far with her, and we're her parents. Whatever the two of you have, it's no passing dalliance. Believe me, I know. I've been there," Charming paused a moment, digging through his pocket for something, and when he found it, reached out for Killian's hand. The pirate extended it with some hestitation, not sure what he was expecting, when he realized with no small amount of shock, that Charming was holding Emma's swan necklace.

Laying it onto Killian's palm and closing his fingers around it, Charming continued, "I know those two will look out for her well-being, but it's you I trust to look after her heart. Do. Not. Make. Me. Regret. It."

For the first time in his life, the normally vociferous Killian Jones, was rendered totally speechless. No wonder her father wanted to do this privately. If the others had been here, Killian was sure the scene would've deterioriated into a nasty fight. That was the last thing anyone needed right now.

At that moment, Killian swore to himself that he would not allow Emma's sacrifice to be in vain. Nor her trust.

He'd kill anyone who attempted to lay a malicious finger upon her.

He would die for her.

"You have my word," he responded, with complete conviction. Charming nodded shortly, then swiftly departed as Killian carefully placed the necklace into his pants pocket.

He was halfway out the door when a stern, yet unwelcome voice stopped him cold.

"Not so fast...Captain." It was Rumplestiltskin. His voice was at a bit of a higher octave than before, hovering precariously somewhere between Mr. Gold and The Dark One.

With everything that had happened, he'd almost forgotten that the Crocodile was still there. But he'd always know. After three centuries, the ability to sense his enemy's presence was seared into him. Though he'd begun to let go of the past, Killian was sure that particular feeling would never leave him.

"I've nothing left to say to you, Crocodile," Killian responded, his tone cold and flat. "My quarrel with you is done. I would suggest you walk away before we risk doing something we'll both regret."

Gold simply walked up to him, acknowledging nothing, the tip of his cane echoing entirely too loudly throughout the empty room.

Looking the pirate dead in the eye, Gold responded, "I assure you, dearie, that regret is the last thing I'd be worrying about where it concerns you or our...disagreement. I'm sure, once you return, we'll be playing the same tune. It's practically a broken record by now, don't you think? And I'll take such great pleasure in putting it out of it's misery."

Killian could feel a low growl bubbling up from deep within him and had to exercise an intense amount of willpower not to rip the filth's throat out. But he'd made a promise, and he wasn't going to break it by letting Rumplestiltskin egg him on. He turned once again to leave, but Gold would not move from his path.

"Move, Crocodile." This time, Killian's voice was deadly.

"Not just yet," he responded, holding up a finger that the pirate had serious thoughts about crushing. "You can't leave Storybrooke with...that," the sorcerer explained, gesturing towards Killian's prosthetic.

A wicked grin came over Killian's face, and suddenly, Captain Hook had entered the building. "I highly doubt I'm the first person in this realm to have lost an appendage, so if you think I'm going to remove it, then you've bloody well lost what's left of your mind. I'd say you could try and take it, but I think we both know how messy that might get. And I would just hate to soil this new clothing that Snow was nice enough to let me borrow. After all, it's so very difficult to get rid of...blood."

Gold grinned back, entirely unfazed. "We both know that's not going to happen, Captain. I'd kill you where you stand. Which is why you are going to remove it, because it's much too conspicuous to go unnoticed. You'll attract far too much attention, and that's something none of us needs. So...I am going to offer you a temporary olive branch, of sorts. It is as much my fault as yours that Emma is in this predicament, so it's only fair that I make some sort of...reparation."

Reparation? What was this, a business transaction? Oh, wait...this was the Crocodile. Of course it was.

"I'm going to return your hand to you. Only for a time, though. It'll make things easier for everyone, wouldn't you agree?"

"Maybe," Killian replied, instantly suspicious. He'd learned a painful lesson about making deals with the imp before. He wasn't about to do it again. "But being caught out is nowhere near worth the price you'd have me pay. We both know that."

"Don't fret, dearie. I'm not asking for anything. You've nothing worth aquiring, anyway. Let's just call this one a...debt repayed." With that, Gold waved his hand down Killian's arm, and in a split-second, the prosthetic was gone. Just as quickly, it reappeared in Gold's hand, hook and all.

Killian had the strangest tingling sensation in his arm, and when he looked down at it, he almost did a double-take. He was sure, for a moment, that his eyes were deceiving him, for he was seeing something that hadn't been there for over three hundred years.

His left hand.

Holding up his hand to have a better look, he took a minute to flex his fingers, having almost completely forgotten what it felt like. The hook had been a part of him for so long, that having two hands was nothing but a distant memory.

"Remember, though," Gold warned, reasserting the pirate's attention, "the enchantment is only temporary. When you return to Storybrooke, the magic will dissipate, and all will be as it was. There's always a price to be paid, dearie. Fortunately for you, this one's not all that expensive."

Handing the prosthetic back, he made to quietly take his leave, but before he was all the way out the door, stopped for one last word. "Oh...and when Ms. Swan wakes, do let her know that she and I are now...even."

And then he was gone.

Killian didn't even hesitate. He threw the prosthetic into his satchel and took off for the ambulance bay.

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Upon entering the bay, Killian could see a small crowd gathering. Snow, Charming, and Henry were huddled together around what looked to him like a mobile bed. As he took a few steps closer, he was just able to make out Emma's slender form nestled under a layer of blankets. She looked so small...so frail, with all manner of tubes and wires projecting from her body.

Her flesh was ashen and cool to the touch, devoid of the tender warmth he remembered ghosting his fingertips over, not so very long ago.

His Emma...his swan...was the toughest lass he'd ever known. But now, she was lying broken and still before him. Weak.

This was something he knew she would abhore. She hated being anything less than rock solid. That, above all else, assured him that she would not give up the fight so easily.

She was unbelieveably obstinate that way. Annoyingly so. And it was one of the things about her that he loved most.

He kept silent for a few moments, trying to show respect for her family as they said their goodbyes. Maintaining a discreet distance, he watched as the three of them leaned in to kiss her cheek, forehead, hands. There were whispered sentiments, but Killian wasn't about to intrude on their privacy by listening in.

Soon enough, a small number of hospital staff appeared, lifting the gurney into the ambulance and making sure that all the necessary life sustaining equipment was properly situated.

Looking around now, Killian could see that August was already inside his vehicle, ready and waiting. Neal was hovering over by the ambulance's driver-side door, keys in hand. They eyed one another anxiously, seeming for all the world like two alley cats ready to pounce eachother at the drop of a hat.

He realized, belatedly, that everyone was...watching him. Their faces were matching visions of pensiveness. Apparently, they were waiting to see which way he'd go. August or Neal.

There was no decision to make, really. He wasn't letting Emma out of his sight. Period. He wanted to be near in case she awoke because he'd promised...he promised her she'd never be alone again.

Giving the Charmings a nod, he walked a few steps over to Henry, kneeling so that he was on his level.

"You know we're bringing her back, yeah? I swear it, lad," Killian tried to reassure him with a little smile, running a hand through the boy's hair and mussing it up a bit. With a sideways glance, it was then that Henry realized that the pirate was using his other hand. His left hand. His eyes windened in dramatic fashion, not sure if he should believe what he was seeing. Killian caught on, but gave no reaction other than a wink and a conspiratorial grin.

"I know you will, Killian," he replied, his own wan smile not truly reaching his eyes, "because you love her."

Out of the mouths of babes...

That absolutely threw him for a loop. He'd no idea the lad was so perceptive. Then again...he was his mother's son.

Henry gave him a quick hug and then went back to rejoin his grandparents. Standing back up to his full height, Killian scanned the room, expecting some sort of adverse reaction to the boy's admission. When none was forthcoming, he nodded to them once again and climbed into the back of the ambulance, sitting down on the small, cushioned outcropping near Emma's bed.

Charming closed the doors, his expression making him look like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. The locks clicked with a looming finality, and seconds later, they were off.

After an indeterminate length of time, during which the only sound that could be heard was the soft beeping of the medical equipment as it kept track of Emma's vitals, Neal suddenly announced, "this is it. We've just passed the town line."

Killian couldn't deny that he was curious about what lay beyond Storybrooke's boundaries. He wouldn't mind casting his sights about, so to speak, but he was loath to leave Emma's side. Still...it wouldn't do him any good to be cooped up in the back of this bloody contraption.

Emma would probably tell him to quit with the pity party and get his ass in gear.

With a sigh, Killian gave her a final once-over to assure himself that she was alright, and then climbed into the front cab, plopping down into the passenger seat.

Neal's hands gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter as Killian appeared, but he kept his face impassive and his eyes on the road.

Killian pretended not to notice and turned his attention to gazing at the scenery rolling by.

There was nothing but dense forest and desolate roadway outside the window. Boredom was rearing its ugly head, and Killian could do nothing about it. Neal certainly was no help, having not uttered more than a sentence or two since they'd left Storybrooke. He had the distinct impression that Neal was sneaking sidelong glances at him every so often, and while a part of him felt it gratifying to have elicited such an unnerved reaction from the poor sod, he was sensible enough to ignore it and look for other ways to keep himself occupied.

Rooting around the console's various storage compartments, Killian eventually wound up striking paydirt in the form of a folded up map. Having been a sailor for most of his life, he'd always been told he had an affinity for charts and navigation. As a matter of fact, if he hadn't risen up the ranks so quickly to become Captain, he might've tried his hand at Quartermaster. He'd loved being able to guide his ship by the starlight. It was a wonderous sight, the beautiful night sky, especially in Neverland.

One of these days, Killian mused, when all of this insanity was behind them, he'd take Emma away from this place. Let her feel the freedom of the sea and hear its wild song.

For now, unable to think of anything better to do, he decided to peruse the map and try to figure out exactly where they were headed. After examining it, though, he began to realize, with no small amount of frustration, that he couldn't make heads or tails of the blasted thing. It wasn't like any nautical chart he'd ever seen before.

At a loss, he knew that maintaining this silent wall between himself and Cassidy was not going to work. Sooner or later, they were going to have to talk. But, did it have to be now? Killian really didn't want deal the man, but he needed to know where they were going. He couldn't stand being in the dark, especially where it concerned Emma.

Pursing his lips, he tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. "So...have we decided where we're headed, or do we just keep going until we find something?"

Neal flinched slightly at the sound of Killian's voice, honestly not expecting any real conversation to take place. He figured they'd just keep a stoic, but civil, distance from eachother.

Keeping his voice even, Neal replied, "August and I discussed it before we left. The closest major city from here is Bangor. If we make good time, we should get there in no more than two, maybe three hours. It's our best bet."

"Seems reasonable enough," Killian replied, satisfied for the moment.

Unfortunately, as the passage of time began to drag further and further on, the akward silence became nearly unbearable. Between bouts of nervous fidgeting and obnoxiously loud map rustling, it was readily apparent that both men were doing everything in their power to 'keep to their corners'.

Finally, Killian could stand it no longer and blurted out, "so...you and Emma...thick as thieves, were you?"

He wasn't even bothering to hide the dripping sarcasm.

And Neal was fed up with holding his tongue.

"Jesus...here we go," he replied with an eye roll and a derisive snort. "You know what? I'm suprised it actually took you this long to shoot your mouth off. Got to give you props, man. You didn't strike me as the type to have much in the way of self-control. Oh, wait...I must've confused your intelligence with your arrogance."

"Excuse me?" Killian leveled a dagger-filled glare at him. Clearly, Neal was trying to get his hackles up. But Killian was well-versed at using words as weapons, almost as well-trained as he was at using a sword. "That's ironic coming from someone who acts like he's 'king of the bleedin' thieves' but then, runs off with his tail between his legs at the first sign of trouble. Oh yes...a true salt of the earth, you are..."

Chuckling darkly, Neal snapped back, "You've got a hell of a lot of nerve trying to call me out when, if it wasn't for you, Emma wouldn't even be in this mess! How does that work for you, exactly, knowing that when she wakes up, her last memory will be of you almost killing her?"

Killian's last remaining shred of good will disappeared in an instant as he lunged for Neal, ready to bludgeon the man with his bare hands. Unfortunately, he'd made a slight tactical miscalculation: he was still wearing his seatbelt.

The harness pulled taught against his waist just as the ambulance hit an ill-timed dip in the road, forcing him back against the seat with what sounded like a growl and a pained grunt.

Neal couldn't help the bark of laughter that burst forth. The sight of Killian fighting against the seatbelt was just too damn funny.

"Holy crap, man! You need a manual or something?!" At that bit of cheek, Killian stopped struggling for a moment, giving Cassidy a very dirty look. "Oh, no! Don't..." Neal shook his head, still chuckling, "don't stop on my account! Dude, you're more entertaining than the drunks in Central Park!"

"That's rich, coming from you, mate," Killian spat with an eerie calm, despite the wave of unbridled fury surging through him. "You tossed Emma, the woman you professed to love, to the sodding wolves! Left her to be punished for your crime! Abandoned her with a prison sentence and an unborn child! What's worse, you actually have the gall to believe that you were doing what was best for her?! Because you loved her?!"

"I DID LOVE HER!" Neal yelled, loudly enough to give even himself pause. Calming down somwhat, he continued, "I still love her. I never stopped. Do you think it was easy for me to walk away from her? It was the most difficult decision I ever had to make! I knew what she went through when she was a kid. How desperately she just wanted to be...wanted. But what she was...what we were...that wasn't the way her life was meant to be. This destiny Emma has? It was more important than me. Than us. I did what I had to do. For her."

"You're completely full of it!" Killian barked, his voice full of venom. "You've been spouting that garbage for so long now that you've honestly got yourself believing it's the truth! If you truly loved Emma, you would've never walked away, no matter how much anyone tried to convince you otherwise! If she ever meant anything to you at all, you would've told the puppet to sod off. You would've stayed and fought by her side. But you made a choice, Cassidy. You chose, and no one else. Make as many excuses as you like, but a man who doesn't fight for what he wants deserves what he gets. Make no mistake, that will never change."

Neal flinched, as if Killian's words had been a physical blow.

He'd drawn first blood.

Good. Serves him right, the smug bastard.

"Go to hell," Neal grumbled, through gritted teeth.

"Been there. Got the hook," Killian replied dryly, with a sarcastic smirk.

After that, all further attempts at discourse abruptly ceased. The two of them knew that if they didn't stop, their verbal jousting was on the verge of exploding into outright violence.

Neal was gripping the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles were turning white, and he looked as though he might rip it out of the dashboard at any given moment.

Killian was quietly seething and was at the point where just being in Cassidy's presence was making his skin crawl.

Making an executive decision, Killian hastily unbuckled himself and climbed into the back of the ambulance to sit with Emma.

She was just as he'd left her, sound asleep and blissfully unaware of anything going on around her. Despite her pallor and injuries...despite everything...his swan was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

She seemed at peace this way. Unguarded. He wished she could be like that always. Open. Free.

If he had his way, she would be.

Leaning towards her, he took her hand in one of his own, rubbing soft circles into her palm with his thumb. With his other hand, he gently ran his fingers through her hair and down her face, caressing her cheek with his fingertips.

It was the first time Killian was able to touch her with both hands, and he wanted the moment to last.

Slowly closing the distance between them, he placed a featherlight kiss to her lips, doing all he could to infuse it with as much love as he had to give.

"I love you, Emma," he whispered softly. "Come back to me...please..."

She didn't respond. But then, he knew she wouldn't. He could only hope that, wherever she was, she'd be able to hear him. That she would know he'd always be with her.

He sighed, and the weight of it seemed to fill the entire space. Not sure what else to do, Killian settled upon the only recourse he knew.

As a pirate, when danger was 'nigh and the future looked bleak, the best thing you could do was send out the call. All one had to do was say the words and know their meaning. Soon enough, the brotherhood would come. They always did. Even if they hated eachother, they were still family. And they would hold together until the bitter end.

It may be meaningless right now, but Emma had the true heart of a pirate, and he would afford her the same respect. She was his queen, and so he would call upon his brothers to be here with them in their time of need.

She deserved nothing less.

Humming the tune slowly, he closed his eyes and began softly singing the sailor's lament:

The king and his men  
stole the queen from her bed,  
and bound her in her bones.  
The seas be ours  
and by the powers,  
where we will we'll roam.

Yo, ho, haul together,  
hoist the colors high.  
Heave ho, thieves and beggars,  
never shall we die.

Before long, he'd drifted off to sleep with a song on his lips and her hand over his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap on another chapter! So sorry this took so long! New semester blues and all that. Now that I'm back into my old routine, I can speed up these updates. Song at the end is Hoist the Colours from Pirates of the Caribbean. Hope you enjoy the chapter and don't think the interaction between Killian and Henry is too...intimate. I didn't think it was. I just wrote what I thought their bond would seem like. Anyways, next up...Bangor and the hospital. Cora will be making an appearance as well. I keep meaning to put her in, but the chapters are always too long. Please review. I love to hear from you guys!

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This fanfic will be switching back and forth from the perspectives of quite a few different characters, so be warned. I do love reviews, so keep 'em coming!


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